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JANITA’S DOWER 




BY ^ 

OLIVIA LOVELL WILSON 



THE 


Shhcy Press 


Xon&on 


PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 
NEW YORK 


/IRontrcal 




THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copies Received 

DEC 29 1902 

Copyti^ht Entry 
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NOTE. 

In writing the following narrative, I have used at 
the request of his great nephew the memoirs of John 
Sidney Willoughby. 

It had been the wish of his uncle that the manu- 
script should be used, when Time, the great consoler, 
had placed the narration beyond the power of bring- 
ing distressing memories to any surviving soul. 

Up to a short time ago the old house still stood in 
Flatbush, and a relative visiting with me the scene 
gave me the story of the spiritualistic revelation re- 
garding the treasure hidden in the great cellar. The 
legends of the Axtell House can be authenticated by 
reference to any early history of Flatbush. Many 
didactic portions of Col. Willoughby’s manuscript 
have been purposely omitted as the story speaks so 
strongly for itself. I beg to state, however, that the 
narrative thus abridged meets with the approval of his 
nephew and heir. 

Olivia Lovell Wilson. 


3 






JANITA’S DOWER. 


CHAPTER I. 

“ A child of our grandmother Eve, a female ; or foi thy moie 
sweet understanding, a woman.” 

Love’s Labor Lost. 

I HAD spoken harshly as was my wont when deeply 
moved, and Susy turned on me one swift glance of re- 
proach. Then, with chin uplifted, stood tapping four 
dainty fingers upon the window pane and gazed out into 
the gathering twilight. 

In truth Susy was pouting, but as the slave of her 
merest whim, I must admit that it was the most de- 
lectable pout ever witnessed. 

Could you have seen her as she stood thus, you would 
not have doubted me, although a lover’s statement is 
apt to be given over to hyperbole. The softest of 
creamy skins, with the color in her cheek like the 
Bonseline roses that bloomed in my aunt’s garden. 
Hair, not the red-gold which artists admire, nor the 
ordinary blonde, but soft mellow masses, coiled about a 
shapely head. Eyes earnest and gray and usually full 
of a peaceful happy light, but clouded now by love’s 

$ 


6 


Janita’s Dower, 


reproach. A charming nose, and a mouth — ah ! the 
limitations of the language preclude my describing 
Susy’s mouth. A delicious ghost of displeasure 
perched upon her lips now, for which I was responsible. 

I had committed treason and I was very miserable. 
When a youth is nearly twenty-five years of age, and 
has been betrothed five years, and sees the prospect 
of matrimony growing ever more dim, it is hard to be 
teased even a little by the dear object of one’s affection. 

Susy had laid a hand upon the jangling chords of 
jealousy within me, and in a torrent of despairing angry 
words I offered her her freedom. Hence the pout, and 
tapping finger-tips. 

She was loyal and I knew it. Not a drop of blood 
that flooded my darling’s cheeks would play me false, 
and this knowledge should have staid my foolish words. 
In the silence I felt the injustice that prompted me to 
speak to her thus. 

“ Susy,” I began, meekly. 

The fingers ceased a moment. 

“ Well,” she said gently. 

“ You are an angel.” 

Her fingers took up the very devil’s tattoo again as 
she replied : 

“ Oh no, I am not, John. Not the least bit of a one. 
I^am a little demon ” ' 

“ Susy, Susy,” I urged, reproachfully. “ You are 
only justly angry with me. I am a very rash man, and 
have already flung aside much happiness. Pity and 
forgive me, dear.” 


Janita’s Dower. 


7 


She looked at me doubtfully a moment, then her 
sweet gray eyes were dimmed by tears, and I knew I 
had won the day and only need kiss those bright drops 
away to have her entire forgiveness. 

“ Jack,” she said, after the necessary reconciliation 
was effected, and her head was so comfortably close to 
my coat that the soft cheek brushed the rude fabric. 
“ Jack dear, I have been thinking about our house to- 
day, our home.” 

“ Well, dear? ” I returned as she paused meditatively. 

“ In the twilight, John, before you come home, we 
are going to leave the curtains looped back.” 

“ Yes, that I may see the cheery light as I approach 
the house. And so, Susy, we build our ‘ Castle in 
Spain,’ ” I concluded, with some bitterness. Susy put 
her hand on my lips and proceeded slowly. 

“ Yes, our castle in Spain, if you choose to call it so, 
although I cannot think why you should say Spain. It 
must be a very unpleasant place to live in. Bull-fights 
and horrid spiders, and such jealous men,” she con- 
cluded, with such an aggrieved glance at me, that I 
laughed a little. 

“ Love in a cottage then, you dear, ignorant little 
woman. Your ideas of Spain are evidently not clearly 
defined. But have you made any change in our do- 
mestic arrangements since we last decided that the cot- 
tage should have green blinds ? ” 

“ Oh yes. I have decided it must be red — deep rich 
red, to catch the light, so you can see the glow when you 
approach the house.” 


8 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ What is to be red, Susy ? I confess you perplex 
me. Not the cottage? and I hope not your dear little 
face, because I love it just as it looks now, and ” 

“Oh, Stupid! don’t be foolish. I mean the table- 
cover, of course, and the lamp in the center.” 

“ And the tea set of silver, which Aunt Mildred will 
never give us, Susy. There, don’t cloud over that 
sweet face. I know one thing. The dearest, darling- 
est little wife in all the world will be near that table 
ready to pour the tea for. ^ the ^ most worthless, yet 
fondest of husbands.” '• ■*- . 

I followed my words with the degree of punctuation 
lovers always find necessary to round their periods. 

“ Won’t it be nice. Jack? ” she cried, her arms about 
my neck. 

“Very, Susy. What you girls term ‘lovely.’ But 
it does seem hard to have to grind so right up to Christ- 
mas eve. It would have been infinitely wiser on my 
part not to have quarreled with Aunt Mildred.” 

“ But, Jack, the principle of the thing.” 

“ Humph ! ” I rejoined grimly. “ Principle doesn’t 
help me to any of life’s comforts. I fear on my part it 
was principally stubbornness.” 

“ John, do you really think so? ” Susy is grave and 
earnest. • 

“ Perhaps not that altogether, Susy. I had my 
reason for not wanting to spoil a good scamp by making 
a poor preacher. However, it is all over now. Poor 
old soul, I did love her, better than I thought I did.” 

“ Then, John dear,” said Susy resolutely, “ go to her 


Janita's Dower. 


9 


at once, and beg her forgiveness. She loves you still, 
or she would not be so bitter against you. Your pride 
and strong will stand between you. Overcome your- 
self, John, and go to her. Harold can contrive an 
interview ” 

“ What ? and fall on my knees, crying dramatically, 
‘ Forgive and forget, I am )'^our child.’ No — ^no, Susy. 
She would think me a miserable poverty-stricken 
youth. Perhaps persuade Harold to show me the door, 
as a last dose of gall and wormwood. No, sweet, I 
will never submit to that. Willoughbys neither forgive 
nor forget hard words. Aunt Mildred has banished me 
forever. My brother glories in my former estate. I 
have sold my heritage.” 

I spoke with increasing acrimony, and Susy was 
silent, evidently pained by my tone. 

“ Harold never glories in his present position. You 
wrong him. He is distressed to have been chosen in 
your stead,” she said finally. “ Nothing has grieved 
him like the threatened estrangement between you two 
who until the last two years have been such devoted 
brothers. Aunty, too, shows her recognition of your 
right to rebel against her demand, in that she has never 
asked Harold to give up his career for that of a theo- 
logian.” 

“ She has profited by one experience, and hesitates to 
rouse - the same blood again,” I replied proudly. 
“ Harold is not a fool to be turned from his course for 
a woman’*s whim. His will is more unbending than 
mine, but he knows better how to win his way. But 


10 


Janita’s Dower. 


enough, Susy! I must depart. Give me another kiss 
and look more cheerful. There! I will come early 
Christmas eve, and help deck the tree for the young- 
sters.” For Susy had some small brothers and sisters, 
who tormented us outrageously, yet we were weak 
enough to love them fondly. 

“ Thank you, John,” Susy returned, but detained me. 
“ I wanted to say that — I — told Harold he could come 
if he would, and help us also Christmas eve. He 
seemed so pleased. You do not mind? There is no 
real trouble between you ? ” 

Her eyes, full of pleading, were seeking my evasive 
glance. 

“ Where did you see Harold ? ” I asked, rather 
coldly. 

“ He met me last evening as I came from church. 
He seemed so sad and was so pleased when I asked 
him to come home with me. John, you must not let 
this question of money arise to make a division be- 
tween you.” 

“ I have never condemned my brother, Susy, for ac- 
cepting a good offer, or profiting through my loss. I 
sold the birthright fairly. There was no advantage 
taken ” 

“ John ! ” There were tears in Susy’s tone now, and 
she drooped her head. 

“ Ah ! Susy, my dear love, look up and never weep 
over two such undeserving fellow creatures as Harold 
and John Willoughby. I confess the iron has entered 
into my soul — but I love the boy too well to give him 


Janita’s Dower. ii 

over to Aunt Mildred entirely. Does that satisfy 
you ? ” 

“ Not entirely,” she replied^ smiling, however. 

“ It must until we meet again. , Good-by, little 
peacemaker.” 

“ Promise me one thing, John, that you will try and 
cultivate a spirit more in keeping with this season. 
Do not brood over not being able to make money 
faster. You are really growing envious and avari- 
cious, coveting your neighbor’s wealth. By the time 
we are married, John, you will be like old Cradberry 
Adams ” 

“ Oh spare me, sweetheart, I promise anything and 
everything.” 

“ Dear boy,” she said softly, giving me a self-re- 
proachful embrace to compensate for her dark 
prophecy. “ I could not love you better if you were 
rich as — as — who was the man who turned everything 
to gold ? ” 

“Midas, my dear?” 

“ Now you are making fun of me ; he had asses’ 
ears, I know, and ” 

“ And I haven’t? Thank you, Susy.” 

“ Now, John ! Well, perhaps he did turn things to 
gold too — but I think I meant Croesus. At any rate, 
I could not love you better, if you owned a whole mint, 
so there ! ” 

To which unclassical, but altogether wise conclusion, 
I responded with much enthusiasm, and Susy then fol- 
lowed me to the door, and I departed. Not without, 


12 


Janita’s Dower. 


however, many glances over my shoulder for another 
glimpse of her bonny face. 

Was there ever a lover who did not sympathize with 
Orpheus ? And I — alas ! under what circumstances 
of trial and doubt was I to see my darling’s face again. 

On I strode in the dusky winter evening, the snow- 
flakes falling like dainty blossoms upon me while I 
crushed thousands of the same wintry flowers beneath 
my feet. 

The streets were thronged with people hurrying to 
warm firesides, and pleasant family gatherings. 

In 1825, Brooklyn was but a small place. It was not 
until nine years later that it was invested with the name 
and privileges of a city. Still it was large enough to 
make a bustling thoroughfare of Fulton Avenue, which 
at this time did not extend six blocks beyond the pres- 
ent locality of the City Hall. All the stores were 
crowded into this portion of the town, and this night 
many were doing their Saturday night’s marketing. 
The streets were bright with lights streaming from 
store windows, and as I strode along, I soon found my- 
self drifting into the mood Susy had warned me 
against. Bitterly did I revile the circumstances that 
found me fortune’s slave, instead of her conqueror. 

I realized my poverty more keenly as the Christmas 
season advanced. We were an English family, but had 
always adopted with those English observances of the 
Yuletide, the German and Dutch custom of present- 
ing one another with gifts. It is practiced largely 
now, I believe by all Americans, save in New England, 


Janita’s Dower. 


13 

where I think I have been told it is a custom only 
slightly observed. 

Every quaint and pretty device I saw I longed to 
bestow upon my darling, and it was the inability to 
gratify her that made me deplore the decision which 
had deprived me of my Aunt Mildred’s vast fortune. 
Nor bad my life up to a year and a half ago, been cal- 
culated to make me in love with poverty, and to-night 
as I thought over those years of plenty, I closed my 
teeth together with a sharp sound that bespoke regret 
and anger. Not regret for my own conduct, but for 
all it involved of loss and deprivation. 

No! I reflected, I must never regret the decision 
which proved my manly purpose and strength. At 
least I had acted from a noble motive in refusing to 
follow my aunt’s desires, but there had always rankled 
in my conscience the doubt whether our angry separa- 
tion was not due to my own undisciplined nature. 

When my father died, leaving me a lad of ten and 
my brother five years of age to the care of his brothers 
and sisters, I realized, young as I was, the demand 
which would eventually be made upon my abilities as 
a man, to mali^ the small income left us educate my 
brother as well as myself. 

Those were days when children were taught to fol- 
low the train of thought established by their elders, 
and my father had impressed upon me in his last lin- 
gering illness, that Harold was to be my first care. 
For three years following my father’s death, we were 
transferred from one family of relatives to another, 


14 


Janita's Dower. 


and in those days of necessary restraint, I recognized 
the contradictory principles laid down for us to follow 
and missing what makes home so desirable, the steady 
hand of absolute authority, I soon became a law unto 
myself. Not that I developed any traits of character 
wholly lawless or abominable, but I was wilful, violent 
in temper, and bubbling over with animal spirits. 

At this time my Aunt Mildred Willoughby, a 
widow, returned from abroad. Three times she had 
assumed matrimonial fetters, and each time the links 
were golden. 

Thus at middle-age, immensely wealthy, eccentric 
and whimsical she was an irritation and delight to her 
relatives. One of her whims was always to be known 
by her maiden name. So after wedding in succession 
Brownlow, Stafford and Gould, she was known among 
her friends as Mrs. Mildred Willoughby. Sometimes 
complications arose, and the name would then be writ- 
ten Willoughby-Gould. But Willoughby she would 
be. 

“ It is nonsense this thing of a woman losing her 
lineal right to her father’s name,” she would say. “ I 
am a Willoughby, and marriage can confer no greater 
honor.” 

We were then living with a cousin of my mother’s, 
Mrs. John Sidney, of Brooklyn, Susy’s mother. Aunt 
Mildred was at once attracted by what she termed my 
“ Willoughby spirit.” She did not pause to reflect 
that in a not far distant future the indomitable pride 


Janita's Dower. 15 

she beheld in the child might rise to confront her, 
and lead to infinite pain and bitterness. 

Harold, with his sonsie face, dark eyes, and sweet- 
tempered laughter, did not call forth her admiration, 
although he had the promise of far more beauty than I 
possessed. I was a Willoughby in complexion, hav- 
ing fair hair and blue eyes, and my resemblance to my 
aunt was striking. 

So the question of my adoption was discussed in 
family conclave, and it was decided that Aunt Mil- 
dred’s offer to make me her heir was not to be refused. 
I had already fully weighed and decided the question, 
before being told their decision. For I reasoned that 
Harold could have all father left us for both and thus 
have a college education, for in my day this latter 
means of attaining knowledge was like a much desired 
Paradise. 

So I was parted from my brother, and entered on my 
new life, with a strange aching at my heart, at the 
separation. Many a time I awoke during the first 
year, feeling over the pillow for the dark head of my 
little brother, and I then would sob myself to sleep 
upon finding it was not there. 

I remember once in a passion of grief, I twisted my 
fingers in the lace on the pillow tearing it into shreds. 
I was too proud to acknowledge these homesick 
moods, that tortured me, for fear of being thought un- 
manly. 

Harold meanwhile lived with Aunt “Sidney. I never 
lost an opportunity of seeing him. Sometimes I of- 


i6 


Janita’s Dower. 


fended Aunt Mildred by this pertinacious affection. 
She was jealous, and exacting, and as I grew older, I 
began to feel the trammels of my position, Harold 
had chosen art as a profession. He was wrapped up 
in his future, narrow as his education had necessarily 
become, because of the meagerness of the sum left by 
my father, and while I wanted for nothing, and was 
lauded and feted as my aunt’s heir, I was yet made to 
feel how helpless I was to give Harold the aid he 
needed. I was still writhing under a harsh blow she 
had dealt my pride, in rebuke for having given Harold 
an advantage hitherto denied him, when she broached 
a subject long dear to her heart. She wished me to 
enter a Theological school at once, and study to take 
orders. 

The idea seemed to me a preposterous one. I had 
always been a reasonably devout churchman, but had 
my inclinations not been against such a career, my con- 
science would have cried out on my unworthiness to 
ever fulfill such an office. 

I had chosen my career, I was in love with the life 
faintly shadowed forth by the last year at college. I 
was determined to breast a troubled sea of printer’s 
ink, and launch forth in literary pursuits. I refused 
determinedly to meet her views. We were both hot 
tempered, and my curt refusal led to a breach that 
widened into an estrangement. 

Then she sent for my brother. She knew how I 
loved the lad. Sfie distressed him by an account of our 
last interview. She was sincerely heart-broken and 


Janita’s Dower. 


17 


mourned me persistently as one dead to her. She de- 
feated all Harold’s efforts to defend me, by madly be- 
wailing my ignoble conduct. Poor fellow ! he knew so 
well my hot-blooded resentment, and reckless moods, 
and while he knew in the main I was acting from a 
true motive, yet he felt my refusal had been ungracious 
and ungrateful. 

She then begged him to take my place. She was old 
and lonely and through his brother she had been ren- 
dered more desolate. She had learned to lean upon 
me, when behold! the staff had broken. Harold was 
only twenty years of age. He was very tender-hearted 
and had learned to love my aunt because she had been 
so kind to me. He wanted to loyally serve both. He 
pleaded my cause earnestly, then came to me in great 
distress. I was as curt with him as I had been with 
my aunt. I was still hot with passion, at the words 
uttered by my aunt in her interview with me. I let 
my brother depart looking dazed and heartsore ar my 
harsh language, and the sun set upon my anger. 

The following day found Harold again in my pres- 
ence. Manly, gentle, my superior by a thousand 
graces, he came to sue my pardon, and beg my counsel. 

I bowed down before this gentle spirit humbly. I 
went with him to my aunt, trying to cultivate a rea- 
sonable and dispassionate judgment on the way, in or- 
der to deal with the question about to arise. 

But alas ! only an infinitely more trying scene ensued, 
but I succeeded in saying right boldly and sincerely 


2 


i8 


Janita's Dower. 


that I hoped she would find in Harold all I lacked of 
obedience and love. 

She forbade me ever to enter her presence again, 
and I left her house with a heart much heavier than 
my purse, and faced the world all the more grimly 
that up to this hour I had only basked in her smiles. 
My brother came to me at once, oflfering to transfer 
the slender income I had relinquished when my Aunt 
adopted me. I refused it disdainfully, checking all 
advice and sympathy. I procured a position which 
through my dogged perseverance soon led to a better 
one. I was now on the staflf of one of the leading New 
York journals, conducting the branch office in Brook- 
lyn. I was impatient, however, at the delay of my 
marriage and my inability to make money faster. 

Harold had quietly transferred to me the principal 
of our father’s income, and I had in my usual haste in- 
vested it in some mines in Western Pennsylvania, and 
as yet they had failed to make any return. 

My aunt had highly approved of my engagement 
to Susy Sidney, but now being angry with me she par- 
tially withdrew her favor from Susy. Susy still went 
to see her at stated intervals, and endured with stifled 
indignation her tirades hurled at my defenseless head. 

I had never seen my aunt since she so utterly re- 
nounced me, but I was thinking of her now, with a de- 
gree of grimness only equaled by my former affection 
for her. 

Susy’s words were full of wisdom. Where so 


Janita's Dower. 


19 

much bitterness remained, the old affection still sur- 
vived. Indifference is love’s only real enemy. 

As I passed down Fulton Avenue, I came upon one 
store that seemed especially to taunt me, with its bright 
window. There was a ring therein which Susy longed 
to possess and I was powerless to procure it. Verily, 
in my half angry mood, I endowed the glittering silver 
and gold in the window with life, and fancied the whole 
array gave a vicious wink of triumph at my inability 
to enter and secure the ring. In fact I was so far from 
obeying Susy’s parting injunction that I was fast bury- 
ing myself in covetous longings, convinced that I was 
the most ill-used man in all Brooklyn. I was hurry- 
ing past the jewelry store, vindictively plunging my 
hands into my overcoat pockets, when a hand fell on 
my shoulder, and a cheery voice exclaimed : 

“ John, old boy, are you running a race with the 
wind ? I have been chasing you for half a square.” 

It was my brother. Tall, dark and handsome, he 
half leaned against me, panting, a smile displaying his 
firm white teeth, as he grasped my arm. I responded 
with enforced heartiness. We had striven very hard 
of late to avoid all unpleasant topics, and to especially 
ignore the gulf that lay between our positions. It is 
needless to say Harold succeeded better than I did. 

“ What brings you out at this hour, Harold ? Are 
not these the moments usually devoted to a dinner 
toilette, or have you forsworn fashion’s fetters, and re- 
turned to your former erratic artist hours ? ” 


20 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ I — that is — I dined early to-day. I was in hopes 
of finding you on your way to the office,” he replied. 
“ The truth is, John,” he added, as if anxious to have a 
disagreeable task over, “ I thought you might want to 
borrow a little money of me. I know what it is to be 
short — and — ” he paused, faltering a little as he saw 
my brow darken — “ I want also to beg you to sell out 
that stock you have in those mines. It is going down 
with a crash before long.” 

I did not reply at once. I had no desire with Susy’s 
words still ringing in my ears to wound my brother by 
the hasty reply that rose to my lips. 

“ Thank you, Harold, but you know I seldom bor- 
row money. It is a bad practice. Let me warn you 
against it.” 

I spoke with a sarcastic dryness, and although I pre- 
tended to be looking straight ahead of me, I saw that 
Harold colored to the roots of his hair. 

“ But the stock ? ” he urged persistently. 

“ It is as safe an investment as can be made,” I re- 
plied. “ Kennedy has his money in it, and with all his 
spiritualistic predilection, you must acknowledge he is 
safe in a business transaction.” 

“ In that, I grant him a very materialist,” returned 
Harold, dismissing the subject in a manner that be- 
trayed his vexation. 

“ How is Susy? ” 

“ You should know. You saw her yesterday,” I re- 
turned shortly. 

Harold was certainly not quite frank with me to-day, 


Janita’s Dower. 


21 


and I was only too quick to resent it He turned a 
quick glance upon me now. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ I saw the little woman yesterday, 
as she returned from church. She looks as bonnie as 
ever, and has invited me to join the holiday festivities 
at home. Home it always will be to me. I presume 
you will also be present ? ” 

“ Without doubt. ' I cannot conceive why you and 
Susy should think I would be otherwise than glad to 
meet you there,” I returned, a little testily. “ I am 
no dog in the manger. I love my brother as heartily 
to-day as ever. A man does not forget his life-love 
in the first hour of trial and adversity.” 

“ Spoken like yourself, John ! ” he said heartily, 
“ and so like the good old days of yore, that it gives 
me courage to ask a favor of you.” 

“Of me? You? Now, come, Harold, I will have 
none of your money.” 

“ No, no, I will not offend in that manner again. 
But I want to get Susy some trifle, as a Christmas gift, 
and not long since I heard her express a desire for a 
certain ring set with turquoise, she had seen in a jewel- 
er’s window. I want to give it to her. I will not do 
so without your permission, for you have a pre-empted 
claim on our sweet cousin.” 

It was a hard moment for me. This was the gift I 
had so longed to give my darling. The very desire 
which had raised the storm of battling thoughts within 
me just before meeting my brother. He wished to 
give her a trifle! It had come to this between us! 


22 


Janita’s Dower. 


What should I reply? 

“ Susy will be delighted,” I returned, quietly, laying 
a strong hand on my bitter reflections. 

“ I may secure it then,” said Harold, in a tone of 
gladness, that rewarded me for my self-control, “ and 
you will help me choose it, John? She will think more 
of it, when I tell her this in giving it to her. Come, 
let us return at once ; we have passed the store.” 

We retraced our steps, and I tried hard to stifle the 
rebellious voice within me, as Harold chatted merrily. 

“ Yellow’s forsaken, 

Green forsworn, '' 

Blue is the sweetest, 

Color that’s worn.’ 

“ You remember old ‘ Festus,’ John, and the couplet 
and Susy’s blue eyes testify to the truth of the rhyme. 
Bless me, I believe I am more sentimental now than 
you are, you cold lover.” 

“ To a fault,” I replied, rather glad to laugh at him, 
“ since Susy’s eyes are gray and not blue.” 

“ Blue, I’ll swear it,” he cried, stopping a moment in 
his astonishment. 

“ Then be forsworn as any green-eyed lover, for 
Susy’s eyes are grayest of gray.” 

“ But tinged with blue-gray like the ocean at sun- 
set, ready to waver into a reflection of the sky at dawn. 
Grant me this ? ” 

” I grant you are color-blind,” I returned amused at 
his discomfiture. 


Janita’s Dower. 


23 

“ I’ll eat my hat, if they are not blue,” he murmured, 
and then we entered the jeweler’s together. 

Harold’s eagerness in selecting the ring, and his con- 
stant quarrel with me regarding our late discussion, 
carried on in a way to mystify the jeweler, did not de- 
ter my thoughts from reverting to the pledge ex- 
changed between Susy and me, a plain old-fashioned 
topaz, set in pearls. It had been my mother’s ring. 
In the early days of our betrothal she had worn it, be- 
cause she liked the association. Later I wished to 
change it, but she would not consent to a finer jewel. 

“ I do not care for jewels,” she said, “ but I do care 
that your mother once wore this.” And so the matter 
passed. 

The ring was chosen at last to Harold’s satisfaction, 
and the dainty device of turquoise and pearl placed in 
its box. Harold was anxious the box -should also be 
blue and was so innocently and eagerly happy over the 
selection, that the jeweler could scarcely repress a 
smile, and fathoming his thought, I was more than 
pained to find a jealous pang shake my heart. 

As we lingered, waiting for the package, some one 
entered the store and bustled up to us, with an impor- 
tant air. ^ 

“ Ah ! Mr. Kennedy,” I said with some warmth, for 
I was always glad to see my old friend, and at this 
moment his presence offered a sense of relief. 

” My dear boys ! ” he responded somewhat breath- 
lessly, “ just the luckiest thing in the world that I met 
you. I saw you come in here, and have been waiting 


24 


Janita’s Dower. 


to waylay you. Well, Harold, purchasing a gift for 
your sweetheart ? ” 

“ No,” laughed Harold, with a mischievous glance at 
me. “ I have no sweetheart save my cold mistress. 
Art. But I am sometimes granted the privilege of 
bestowing my paltry gifts on other men’s sweethearts.” 

The speech jarred on me. I started to speak, but 
checked myself, and Mr. Kennedy came promptly to 
the rescue. 

“ Bad practice, Harold — better get a little sweet- 
heart of your own. It is a safeguard against foolish 
entanglements,” he said, and Harold eagerly inter- 
posed : 

“ Nonsense — you misunderstand me. I ” 

“ There ! I was teasing you, you girlish fellow. 
There is no need to change countenance like that. Such 
a red flag is only becoming to a lady’s cheek. But 
come! I want you over at the office, I have a project 
to unfold to you. Do not refuse me.” 

“More mines in Western Pennsylvania?” inquired 
Harold. 

“ I am in haste ” I began, but Mr. Kennedy inter- 

rupted me by exclaiming : 

“ John, you look like a ghost, you are growing so 
haggard, with this eternal grind. Come to my office, 
and I will tell you my wonderful revelation. Harold, 
hold your saucy tongue, I will have no refusal.” 

So we were taken by him to his office, despite Har- 
old’s laughing protest, and my serious doubts as to the 
wisdom of wasting more of the evening hours, when I 


Janita’s Dower. 


25 

knew I should have to work until dawn to accomplish 
all I had in hand. 

As I had hinted to Harold in our previous conver- 
sation, Mr. Kennedy was a devoted spiritualist. He 
had been bereft of all his children, and had embraced 
Spiritualism, as have so many others, to satisfy the 
yearning- grief, hoping to span the gulf of God’s eternal 
love and silence, with his finite earthly affection. 

In those days Spiritualism was in its infancy. It 
seemed to some the work of the evil one. To others, a 
fantastical belief founded upon incomplete, psycholog- 
ical research. So I was not surprised when Harold 
made a sly grimace at me behind his hand, when Mr. 
Kennedy prefaced his remarks as follows : 

“ Boys, I have had a most wonderful and beautiful 
revelation from the spirit world, and I intrust it to you, 
as I would to no one else. If you think me foolish 
in placing faith in what I have heard, at least hear me 
with patience.” 

He then proceeded with his statement. He was 
gray-haired, and a man of sterling qualities, or we 
should have treated his disclosure with less considera- 
tion. His earnestness and fervor with our love and 
respect for him, made Harold repress his amusement 
during the recital. 

Recently his wife had developed remarkable clair- 
voyant power, and during one of her trances the fol- 
lowing communication had been made to her. 

Flatbush, as every one reading this narrative will 
doubtless remember, was the scene of many historical 


26 


Janita’s Dower. 


events during the Revolutionary war. Mrs. Kennedy’s 
spiritualistic communication was regarding an old 
colonial house, which stood in partial ruin in that 
ancient town. A spirit, who professed to have for- 
merly worn the flashing scarlet garb of a British officer, 
told Mrs. Kennedy that he had at that time stored a 
large amount of gold coin, family plate and jewels in 
the cellar of this house. Directions were given to her 
how to reach the cellar, and a minute description of an 
iron door bearing a concealed iron ring, which when 
lifted would disclose the wealth half a century old. 

The friendly spirit also added that as there were no 
heirs living, it would belong to whoever discovered the 
treasure. 

“ I do not remember any house in Flatbush, do you, 
John? my friend concluded. 

“ Why it can only be the old Axtell place, Axtell 
Hall,” I replied lazily, trying not to smile at his 
earnestness. “ It is said to be haunted and your 
friendly but mercenary spirit may be its familiar ghost. 
Yet I can hardly believe wealth lies concealed in its 
cellars. It has been empty ever since the last owner 
lost his fortune. But you do not place credence in the 
communication, Mr. Kennedy ? ” 

“ John, that is no way to speak of a revelation of 
this nature. Now, really, I was glad to meet you to- 
night. I had a fancy for you both as companions for 

an expedition I was going to propose. I thought ” 

“ P — h — e — w.” Harold drew a long whistle. 
“ You have it in your mind to go prowling about 


Janita’s Dower. 


27 

Flatbush, into haunted houses, hunting spiritualistic 
friends on a night like this ! ” And Harold shrugged 
his shoulders, with utter disgust at such a suggestion. 

Mr. Kennedy cast an appealing glance at me. 

“ Now, Harold ! I have already investigated a little. 
If you will only join me ’’ 

“ My dear friend, it is out of the question,” I replied. 
“If it was not nonsense to be so mislead. I know the 
old house and its romantic legends. It has been 
altered somewhat of late, but still presents very much 
the same appearance as in old Col. Axtell’s time. But 
it is folly to suppose money or jewels could be con- 
cealed there. Let me dissuade you from this wild 
goose chase.” 

“ Not even for the goose of the golden egg. Jack? ” 
he asked coaxingly. “ Come, think better of it. If 
you will accompany me now, we can be back for a sup- 
per by ten o’clock. Come, lads, gratify an old man’s 
whim.” 

“ I would gladly oblige you, but I really must be at 
the office within half an hour. I have little time for 
pleasure jaunts now. Take Harold.” 

“ And Harold has got to take himself to an engage- 
ment made for seven o’clock. So I too must decline.” 

“ Well, I am sorry, boys. Some other night then. 
And how is little puss? Well, I hope?” 

“ Susy is always well and happy.” Harold an- 
swered for me cheerily, for I really was thinking so 
busily of Mr. Kennedy’s reference to the golden egg, 
that I did not catch the drift of his last question. 


28 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ Susy — yes,” I stammered, a little disconcerted by 
Harold’s smooth tone. “ Susy is very well, indeed.” 

“ And you will go with me some other night, boys ? 
It is an engagement?”' 

“ By all means if it will gratify you. I have often 
been in the old house. Colonel Axtell is supposed to 
have built it in 1749. It was a rendezvous for his 
famous Nassau Blues, or ‘ Holy Ghosters,’ as they 
profanely called themselves. The history of the house 
is interesting.” 

I spoke heartily to atone for my former incredulous 
speeches, and after promising to return soon and give 
him the remainder of my information regarding the 
house, Harold and I departed. 

Once without the office, we laughed heartily over 
this last whim of our old friend. 

“ It has a rich flavor of romance, Harold,” I said. 
“ Imagine the charm of finding jewelry and plate, 
hidden so many years, in the somber depth of that 
old cellar. A curious old cellar it is too, with many 
turns and twists and secret passages. They say more 
than one patriot has languished and died within its 
walls, captured by Colonel Axtell’s ‘ Nasty Blues,’ as 
the people termed them.” 

“ There is foundation for a novel in three volumes, 
in the very suggestion of the jewels,” laughed Harold. 
“ I confess they have a fascination for me. Fancy, old 
fellow, finding a string of pearls to wind about Susy’s 
creamy throat. Turquoise, diamonds, even rubies 
to deck her golden hair ! ” 


Janita’s Dower. 


29 


“See here, Harold,” I replied sharply, “conjure up 
your own scene, and deck a sweetheart of your own 
finding. Susy will wear no pearls of your getting, 
trust my word for it.” 

Harold gave me an astonished stare, then laughed 
shortly and rather unpleasantly. 

“ Beg your pardon, John, if I have offended, but 
I fail to see any just cause for offense. Good night. 
I will leave you here. I shall be down-town until 
late. I will call at the office for you, and we will go 
up-town together.” 

“ Better not, Harold. I am in a regular bear’s mood 
to-night.” 

“ I know it, but I am determined to stick to you. 
Your temper seems to have parted company with your 
spirits. One is at ninety in the shade, the other below 
zero. Cheer up, brother of mine, I shall call for you 
about ten.” 

“ Until then, adieu,” I responded, and I watched 
the tall graceful figure walk away from me, with a 
sigh of relief. 

Why was I so determined to encourage the sad 
spirit, and nurse my grievance in the face of his frank 
affection? Why did I feel he had no right to pro- 
cure that ring? Now that the test of poverty came 
to me would it find me a characterless grumbler at fate, 
rather than a soldier in the battle? 

These better, because remorseful, reflections brought 
me to the office door, and I was soon engrossed in clip- 
pings and notices, to the exclusion of other thoughts. 


30 


Janita’s Dower. 


It was eleven o’clock, and I had just leaned back in 
my chair, yawning frightfully, when my brother came 
into the office. He looked pale, and seemed fatigued. 

“ I feared you would be gone,” he said, leaning on 
my desk with a wistful look in his dark eyes. “ I will 
have to ask your hospitality for the night. I have 
mislaid my latch-key. May I go to your lodgings ? ” 

I responded heartily, something in his tone touched 
me. I seemed to see once more the little lad who, dur- 
ing our boyhood, was always gently cognizant of my 
prerogative as his senior. 

“ I am pleased to be able to atone in some way for 
my nasty humor lately. But, Harold, you look as de- 
jected as you accused me of being, a few hours ag®.” 

“ It is nothing — I have a headache,” he said, passing 
his hand over his eyes. 

I looked at him again keenly, and wondered at his 
coming back up-town if he felt ill, for he had a hand- 
some studio, and a suite of rooms, aside from his home 
with my aunt. 

Months afterward I understood his desire to be near 
me. A short speech of mine had opened his eyes to 
the secret of his heart. His hour of temptation was at 
hand. In discovering the truth of his own wayward 
fancy, amid the pain awakened by such a revelation, 
he had no envious or unkindly thoughts. His young 
soul stood appalled at the world of darkness that 
opened beneath his feet. He was shaken with a sad fear. 
Yet while I had supplied the key which unlocked the 
floodgate of this mysterious tide of woe, I was at the 


Janita’s Dower. 


31 


time utterly unconscious of all save my own anxieties. 
I was about to lock my desk, when the errand boy 
came from the outer office saying : 

“ An old gent, in a desperate hurry to see you, sir.*' 

“ Show him in, I replied, adding vexedly. “ Now 
who the devil comes at this hour ? ” 

When to our intense surprise Mr. Kennedy came 
hurriedly into the office, in an evident state of ex- 
citement. 

He gave vent to an exclamation of pleasure at see- 
ing Harold, and grasping my arm, said impressively, 
and breathlessly: 

“ John, Harold, I have been to the house. It is 
Axtell Hall. The revelation is a truthful one and I 
want your assistance. You must come with me at 
once. 


32 


Janita’s Dower. 


CHAPTER 11. 

“ I have shot mine arrow o’er the house, 

And hurt my brother.” 

“ The house ? Axtell Hall ? ” I stammered, while 
Harold exclaimed in surprise. 

“ Yes ; I was too eager to postpone my investigations. 
I have been in the cellar where this treasure lies con- 
cealed, under an iron door. I came for you to assist 
me. The girl knov»rs very little English.” 

“ A woman in the case ! ” quoth Harold, with an un- 
becoming curl of his youthful lip. 

“ Yes ; half the house is used, occupied by some one 
who looks after the property. She is a slip of a girl, 
and I told her I would return in an hour or more. I 
want witnesses to this remarkable revelation. And 
besides, I have no strength for the task. The iron 
door is a heavy one. I am fortunate in finding you 
both here. You cannot refuse me; I have a carriage 
at the door.” 

I exchanged a glance of dismay with Harold, who 
tapped his forehead significantly. I knew Mr. Ken- 
nedy’s earnestness in following up this clue was not 
owing to love of gain. He was a man of wealth. He 
only desired to confirm the spiritualistic revelation 


Janita’s Dower. 


33 

made by his wife. He was so eager and excited that 
I understood, and shared the anxiety, that had 
prompted Harold to the silent gesture. We both 
feared for his reason, and resolved to go with him, to 
assure ourselves that spiritualism had not unhinged his 
mind. 

I hurriedly penned a few lines to my assistant whom 
I was expecting every minute, and taking my pistol 
' from my desk drawer, prepared with Harold to fol- 
low our old friend. 

We found a carriage awaiting us, and drove rapid- 
ly through the town ; past stores closing for the night ; 
past the dwelling houses, where lights twinkled from 
chamber windows, and on out toward Flatbush. 

The snow had ceased to fall, and a faint shadowy 
moonlight illumed the- landscape. As we bowled 
along Flatbush Avenue, Harold alone ventured a 
remark that was intended to be jovial, but it passed 
our friend by, as did the frosty air sweeping in the car- 
riage window, which he insisted upon lowering. 

Suddenly our progress became slower, and I knew 
we were nearing the old house I had so often gazed 
upon in my childhood, thrilling with horror and curi- 
osity at the knowledge of its being haunted. My 
friend signaled the coachman to stop. 

“ We must get out here, boys. We cannot drive 
into the yard. Besides, the man better go back to the 
‘ Three Bells ’ and wait for us in comfort. Do you 
hear, James? ” he added to the coachman, “ come back 
to this gate in an hour.” 

3 


34 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ Ay, sir ; ” responded James, and we were left stand- 
ing before the high, quaint iron gateway, the snow 
lying in drifts about us. 

“ Forward, General,” said Harold, with determined 
cheerfulness. 

“Are we to climb the gate?” I inquired, “be- 
cause it had been iron bolted for years to my knowl- 
edge.” 

“ You are abominably skeptical, boys. Have a little 
faith,” returned Mr. Kennedy impatiently. “ Come, 
this way.” 

He led us some distance, until we reached what ap- 
peared only a stronger portion of the seemingly im- 
pregnable fence. Then he paused. 

“ Put your shoulder against that bar, and push, 
John, you are the strongest. Push very hard.” I 
obeyed, and an iron panel yielded to the pressure, and 
swung back, and we entered the yard. 

But we were still, as I well knew, far from the 
house, for it was situated so far back, that little more 
than the chimneys could be seen from the road. Our 
way lay now through a trodden path, and I was sur- 
prised into a question, albeit the gloom and mystery of 
the adventure had checked me heretofore. 

“ Did you also know of that gate through your 
revelation ? ” 

“ No. When I came to the house two hours ago T 
came upon it from the rear, James having driven by 
a cross road from the town. I found in the house 
a young girl, alone, and she said her folks had been 


Janita’s Dower. 


35 

living there. She led me here upon my departure. 
She seemed eager that I should return with my friends, 
as I said I should. Be careful, Harold, you are wide of 
the path, boy.” 

Mr. Kennedy’s tone was one of suppressed excite- 
ment, and nothing more was said until we reached the 
house. 

I had always known Axtell Hall as one of the oldest 
houses in Flatbush. It was the only house in the town 
of decided English architecture, and must, in its day, 
have been a costly and elegant mansion. 

It was a frame house built of heavy hewn timber, 
solid and strong, a rambling structure, two stories and 
a half high, with wings on either end. The steep 
roof slanted in various directions and quaint gables 
and turreted towers made their appearance, completely 
destroying any conformity of design. The windows 
were large and numerous. 

As it loomed upon my vision, it appeared a dark and 
gloomy pile, haunted by ghosts of other days, when 
mirth, revelry, and even joy might have lingered a 
welcome guest within its walls. 

I confess I felt Harold’s hand on my arm with 
anything but a comfortable start, as he whispered : 

“ I say, John, are you armed ? I do not like the look 
of this adventure. Kennedy is drunk or crazy to lead 
us into such a scrape ! ” 

Before I could reply, Mr. Kennedy said : “ This way, 
boys,” and plunged into the shadow of one of the 
deep porches. 


Janita’s Dower. 


36 

We followed, and found him waiting before a small 
side door, upon which he tapped five times with an old 
iron knocker. For the first time I descried a faint 
light glimmering through the diamond shaped pane 
of one of the large windows. 

At Mr. Kennedy’s summons it disappeared, and then 
came flickering down the hall to the door. The door 
swung heavily back, and a slight girlish form stood 
before us holding a candle over her head and peering 
into the night, as if blinded by the wavering flame. 

Even in that moment, the rare beauty of the girl was 
evident. I heard Harold draw a quick breath, but 
I only gazed at the fair vision of loveliness, the dusky 
mellow skin, the eyes that shone like stars, and the 
taper of her slender wrist as she held the candle aloft. 
I know now that I even noted in that first glance, the 
gleam of white shoulders that shone through a rent 
in the shabby black gown, and the womanly attempt to 
arrange the dark hair that burst forth in wavy masses 
from the ribbon she wore upon it. She looked at Mr. 
Kennedy. “ Oh ! you have come,” her voice was low 
and musical. “ Follow me.” We obeyed her, passing 
through a long narrow passage emerging upon a wide 
hall, which convinced me that we had entered by a 
side door. 

She led us across this spacious oak-paneled hall, 
with its huge fireplace, and great oak staircase, into a 
large room that must have once served as a reception 
room. Now it was devoid of all furniture save a few 
broken chairs, a small piece of carpet thrown down in 


Janita’s Dower. 37 

front of the fireplace and a rude bed of straw in one 
corner. 

A feeble fire burned on the hearth, and well in the 
shadow of the dimly-lighted room, I saw, with the keen 
glance of a man used to making his observations 
available for daily bread, that a box under a window 
had been used as a dining table, while at one end of it 
was placed a miniature crucifix and small missal. 

The girl placed the candle on the mantel-shelf and 
offered us chairs, with a grace of hospitality that I 
could see amused Harold not a little. 

I leaned against the mantel-shelf and gazed into the 
fire, somewhat embarrassed to find the girl’s gaze fixed 
upon me. Harold stood watching her, his hand on 
the chair which she had offered him, the light playing 
over his handsome face and form. Mr. Kennedy 
seemed somewhat at a loss to proceed, but the girl took 
the initiative. 

“ Why do you bring two men here ? ” she asked, and 
I detected then that she spoke with a strong accent. 
“ You said you would bring but one.'* 

“ I brought the one of whom I spoke, and also his 
brother. They are both young and my devoted 
friends. There is no secret in this venture,” returned 
Mr. Kennedy, but I detected an uneasiness in his 
glance, the first he had displayed. The excitement 
under which he labored was giving place to anxiety, 
and I felt that he realized under the glamour of those 
beautiful eyes, the risk he ran in bringing us hither. 
There was a moment’s silence, then the girl spoke. 


38 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ But which is the one of these men you told me was 
to be married to the sweet, fair girl you called ” 

For once Harold out-stripped me in speech. He 
turned fiercely upon Mr. Kennedy. “ You ! — You ! — 
to speak her fair name here. How dare you so betray a 
friend — have you lost all sense of the fitness of things r 
are you ” 

“ I spoke no names, I — I — did not know — I told her 
— that — that ” stammered Mr. Kennedy in con- 
fusion. 

“ Harold ! ” My voice was full of astonishment 
mingled with displeasure, as my hand fell in warning 
upon his shoulder. 

But the girl gave a low laugh, and pointed a de- 
risive finger at Harold’s flushed face. 

“ Oh ! I thought I should discover Sir Lover, nor 
was I wrong,” she said. “ Do not be angry. The 
kind old gentleman told me but little. But it made 
me long to know more. Besides it suited my purpose. 
I am only a little lonely girl, and I like to think about 
the fair girl and her lover. There is no harm, so don’t 
be angry.” 

She spoke in a tone of plaintive appeal, but I scarce- 
ly heard her. Even in the dim light, I saw Harold’s 
face grow white to the lips, and his eyes sank beneath 
my gaze, when she addressed him as Susy’s lover. I 
dropped my hand from his shoulder and turned away. 
A great fear shook me. But the girl gave us no 
time for speech or reflection. She stepped up to me. 

“ Come with me,” she said, in a low tone, “ you are 


Janita’s Dower. 


39 


young, strong, and determined in purpose. You can 
lift the weight. The treasure beneath it is mine. 
You shall have it upon one condition. Come, I en- 
treat you.” 

She was so near me that I felt her swift warm 
breath upon my face. I knew my companions did not 
hear this speech. There was something in the depths 
of the girl’s eyes that stirred me to pity, even amid 
the tumultuous thought overwhelming me. 

“ It is all there,” she continued in a low rapid tone, 
“ untold wealth, and all is yours on certain conditions. 
You will follow me?” “Yes,” I replied, and went 
with her a few steps when Mr. Kennedy interfered. 

“ Not alone, John,” he said in a troubled voice, for 
the glance exchanged between Harold and myself had 
not escaped him. Our old friend already wished him- 
self well away from the house. “ I cannot permit you 
to go alone into that cellar. She can conduct us all 
there.” 

The girl cast a despairing glance at our friend, one of 
vexation and partial amusement. “ As you wish,” she 
said indifferently, and lifting the candle from the man- 
tel-shelf, she beckoned us to follow her. I was im- 
mediately behind her, and I walked as one in a dream, 
hearing the footsteps of my companions yet fearing 
to look back lest a ghost should confront me. The 
ghost of that newly-risen secret, reflected in Harold’s 
face; — Harold, the brother whom I loved with devo- 
tion only known to those to whom the ties of blood are 
few. A few months in life’s changeful events had 


40 


Janita’s Dower. 


made my heritage his. Was the love of my life, which 
seemed the very tissue of my soul, to follow in the wake 
of my wealth? No! no! I thought. Harold is too 
true to tempt my darling to forsake me. He has 
sought to bury this secret, but a careless word has 
brought its ghost- from the grave. It is but a ghost. 
He is young and will conquer himself. 

That he loved my darling passionately, that her very 
name sent every pulse throbbing, as mine in the security 
of Susy’s affection had never been stirred, was shown 
in that outburst of indignation called forth by the girl’s 
ingenuity. Yet Harold would never — Ah! but the 
ring, I saw it on Susy’s hand ; I pictured him giving 
it to her, and such anger seized me that I could have 
turned back upon him then and called him to account. 
Did he realize, as he selected the ring, all this last 
hour revealed ? Oh ! That I might force a confession 
from him, as I had often done in the days of his child- 
ish offenses. With my senses already warped and 
disturbed by doubt, this suspicion led me to see my- 
self already stripped of Susy’s affection, drifting, a 
helpless wight upon the tide of ill-fortune, to a sea of 
darkness and misery. 

We had now followed the girl down the long hall, 
and commenced descending into the basement. The 
feeble candle-light scarce dispelled the darkness, 
and the stairs were precipitous. In the' long corridor 
of the basement we seemed to traverse miles. No 
word was spoken, as we went down still another small 
flight of stairs to the cellar. 


Janita’s Dower. 


41 


A rush of damp air struck our faces as the door of 
the cellar opened and then swung heavily behind us. 
A damp moisture seemed clinging to the walls as we 
advanced down the first short alley. I saw the girl 
shiver more than once as she walked in advance, the 
candle lifted above her head, sending its flickering 
light over her dark tresses, defining the outline of her 
slender wrist and white hand uplifted against the 
darkness. Occasionally we came upon a huge door 
that seemed to bar our passage, when the girl would 
suddenly turn into what seemed like a wall beyond, 
and we, following quickly, would find ourselves enter- 
ing on another long alley. 

I had often heard of the resources of this cellar 
(from the history of Flatbush) and, as a lad, I had 
listened to the tales recounted of the haunted house. 
But while I had been told that a goodly company of 
soldiers might lurk here, undiscovered, and that in 
Colonel Axtell’s time many a prisoner had languished 
and died in these vaults, still I had formed little idea of 
the extent of the underground passage. I understood 
as I never had before, how Colonel Axtell and his fol- 
lowers, the Nassau Blues, had carried on their mode 
of warfare during the revolutionary struggle, and how 
many daring and cruel deeds could have been com- 
mitted within these walls. Once the girl paused and 
looked back anxiously,' as she stepped carefully around 
a door iri the ground. 

“ Step carefully around the door,” she said, “ they 


42 Janita’s Dower. 

say there is a dungeon beneath, I hate the door, it 
looks so frail.” 

I turned to warn the others, and caught Harold’s 
arm, just as he trod with one foot on the door. Our 
eyes met as I spoke, and I saw the trouble and pain in 
his face, as he fathomed the suspicions lurking within 
me. He grasped my hand in the gloom and whispered ; 
“ Oh ! John, forgive me ! ” 

But I twisted my fingers from his, and recognizing 
only a miserable surrender to weakness in the cry, I 
turned from him to follow the girl again. To me his 
words were a helpless confession, confirming my fears 
and hardening my heart. In that moment I hated my 
brother, and opened the door to all the temptations that 
were to follow. 

We were now traversing the last long alley. Huge 
spiders hung in cobwebs and ran into corners at sight 
of us ; while the scurry of flying feet showed it to be 
the abiding place of vermin. Once the girl shuddered 
and shrank back against me, and involuntarily I 
stretched out my arm to protect her, but at my touch she 
quickly recovered herself. 

She paused finally, throwing the light of her candle 
upon the ground. There firmly imbedded in the pave- 
ment of the cellar was a weight, such as we see some 
times used over cellar holes, only much larger. An 
iron ring was attached to the center of the weight. 

“ This is the spot to which I led you,” she said, 
looking at Mr. Kennedy. 

Yes,” he replied, almost in a whisper, “ I think so.” 


Janita’s Dower. 


43 


“ You told me there was a treasure beneath this 
weight. Now, if your friends have strength, let them 
find it.” She spoke slowly, as if finding it a little hard 
to construct an English sentence to suit her purpose, 
and I heard her murmur in French : “ I did not deceive 
him.” 

I was an excellent French scholar, and the words 
startled me a little, but after some hesitation I bent to 
grasp the ring and strove vainly to move the weight. 
The girl smiled gently. Harold took the candle from 
her hand so abruptly that she gave a slight scream, 
but without heeding her, he searched the part of the 
cellar in which we stood, and returned with a curious 
iron bar. 

There was a resolute impatience upon his youthful 
face. I knew he felt scorn for the folly of our situation 
and determined this scene should terminate swiftly. 

With the iron bar beneath the edge of the weight, 
he bade me lift with all my strength. Our efforts were 
rewarded for the iron slid slowly aside, and made it 
possible for us to see into the huge black hole beneath. 

In a moment the candle was thrust into the gloom, 
and Mr. Kennedy and Harold knelt on the edge of the 
hole. At the same moment I felt the girl’s hand fall 
on my arm, and she whispered: “ You will follow me 
later? I have your promise. Trust me, trust Janita.” 

" Yes, yes,” I replied, in my surprise. 

“ There is positively nothing here,” said Harold, 
rising after a thorough examination. 


44 


Janita’s Dower. 


“Nothing!” echoed Mr. Kennedy in a tone of as 
much relief as disappointment. 

“ No, you have been misled, Mr. Kennedy, and 
there is nothing for us to do but reward this little girl 
for her trouble and depart. For my part I am quite 
ready to go.” 

Harold spoke authoritatively, with a tacit rebuke to 
his elders in tone. The young girl turned an angry 
glance upon him. 

“ I am not a beggar,” she said, “ I feared your 
search would be in vain, but you are rude. I trust you 
will not speak this way to the girl you marry. She 
will not love you long, in spite of your handsome face, 
so be warned.” 

This time her words came glibly, only with a marked 
accent. Harold made no reply but turned to depart. 
We all gladly followed the flickering candle in its jour- 
ney back to the basement, but when we reached the 
last door leading into the hall, she held it open for us 
to pass, and when my companions had gone on she 
laid a determined hand on my arm, pushed me gently 
back, and the door swung heavily, while I heard p 
bolt shoot to its place as I stood in utter darkness. 


Janita’s Dower. 


45 


CHAPTER III. 

*' The Gods are just, and of our pleasant vices, 

Make instruments to plague us.” 

— King Lear. 

I CONFESS my heart gave a painful leap when I 
thought I was alone, but a soft hand groping to find me, 
convinced me that the girl was still on my side of the 
door, as she murmured : 

“ Mon Dieu ! I have extinguished the candle. Stand 
still a minute.” 

There was no inclination on my part to disobey 
her. With her former warning regarding trap-doors 
still in my ears, I had no desire to end my life by a 
descent into an ancient dungeon. 

In a moment the candle was lighted again. 

I “ Come with me,” she said in nervous haste ; “ no 
one can have what it is mine to give save the man who 
delivers me. You will help me, I have your word. 
Come, we must be quick. I know not how your brother 
will act during your absence. I see he loves fondly. 
Come.” 

She led me to the right of the door, where, to my 
surprise, a steep stairs seemed to end abruptly in the 
ceiling. She ascended swiftly and pushed against 


Janita’s Dower. 


46. 

tlie ceiling, when a door opened upon a continuation of 
the stairway. We climbed this second tiight, until she 
pushed another door aside and ’we stood in a square 
room, which in my bewilderment I judged to be about 
ten stories from the basement I had just left. 

“ This is the haunted chamber,” said the girl, pant- 
ing a little from her exertions. “ The treasure I told 
about is hidden here. Even should the house be 
rented no one occupies this room. The only way to 
reach it, that is generally known, is by placing a ladder 
on the outside up to the window. I discovered this 
secret passage below the ballroom slide. See; I tell 
you all ; I trust you.” 

I nodded a little uneasily. The girl’s confidence 
troubled me, but touched me also. I could not bear 
to disappoint her. She went to the mantel-shelf, and 
then faced me again. 

“ I am about to show you enough of gold, jewels and 
plate to make you a wealthy man. It is mine and I 
give it all to you, on certain conditions. When I 
show you these I am at your mercy. You can do all 
for me, a poor girl, whom all but the good mother 
of God seems to have forsaken. I know she sent you 
hither. Oh, Sir! Monsieur, listen to me and my re- 
quest. I am in trouble and you can save me.” 

“ Stop, my child,” I interposed, alarmed by this 
preface. “You must not think I have any power to 
help you. I ^m a poor man, one whom -” 

“ Nay, I know you are not rich, but I have all this 
money. It is something money cannot buy that I want. 


Janita’s Dower. 


47 


Protection, Your advice. Listen : My name is 
Orme, Janita Orme. Your old friend in some strange 
way knew of this money, but he thought it was money 
hidden here years ago. I know better than that, but 
you must not question me, for I will give it all to you 
provided you marry me.” 

I started in astonishment and caught my breath in 
a gasp. 

“ Impossible ! Miss Orme ; I — you ” 

“ Call me Janita,” she interposed, giving the soft 
sound to the J, making it sweet music to the ear. “ But 
do not refuse me. It is my escape, my only escape from 
from something worse than death.” 

“ But it is impossible. I am engaged to be married. 

My friend has told you ” 

“ You ! and it is you that loves the — ah ! I see,” slowly 
nodding. “ You let me taunt your brother — and — and 
— you both love this girl. That is what made him grow 
so white, I understand — I understand ! ” 

“ You are a fiend, to read me thus.” 

“ I am no fiend, but a girl who wants liberty. No 
matter if you are engaged a thousand times. Take 
this money and grant my request. I shall not annoy 
you. I do not think I love you, but give me your name, 
take me away from here. Let me be your wife for one 
brief day, and then send me whither you will, tc 
France — to a convent — only help me to escape a fate 
harder than I dare reveal.” 

“ But, Janita, I cannot have two wives, I am be- 
trothed ” 


Janita's Dower. 


48 

“Oh, I shall only be your wife in name. It will 
give me the power to leave this country, to elude pur- 
suit. Oh, sir, you must listen to me.” 

A sudden sense of humor seized me just at this mo- 
ment. I smiled a little as I said : 

“ Janita, if my name and protection is all you desire, 
I can legally adopt you. You may become my daugh- 
ter.” 

“ You, my father, with that face? Besides, I should 
have to go with you to some public place. Do not turn 
away from me. Hear me. Oh ! dear young sir. No 
one shall know of our marriage save my priest. I 
will tell no one. I will go anywhere, do anything you 
say, only help me. God will forgive us this sin, since 
you save me from another and a greater one. For if 
you will not listen I will kill myself, rather than live 
with what is in store for me. See, I give you all this 
money, you can marry your sweetheart, give her bright 
and beautiful jewels, and forget you ever saved and 
helped little Janita. I shall not trouble you. Send me 
back to France, to the convent, anywhere. Ah ! sir, if 
you do not listen you may still live to see your love 
taken from you, and be like me to-night, disconsolate. 
That brother loves with greater passion than moves 
your colder heart. May he not win yet ? Help Janita, 
and gain your sweetheart wife at once.” 

I sprang from her with an exclamation, and with my 
hands over my forehead paced the room. Looking back 
now on that moment of horrible doubt and temptation, 
I feel that I have put more into the poor girl’s mouth 


Janita’s Dower. 


49 


than she really uttered. I know she stammered, often 
using a French word then lamely substituting an 
English equivalent. But my jealous fears; my over- 
whelming sense even then, of my brother’s superiority, 
pressed like demons fingers against my heart, and I sup- 
plied in thought all her speech lacked in eloquence. 
She saw, too, the change in my face when she spoke of 
my brother, and followed to this vantage ground. 
To me she seemed possessed with the power of reading 
my thoughts. As I came back the third time I 
paused, gazing at her. She stood watching me, her 
face full of eager hope, her little girlish form swaying 
toward me. 

Why should I not grant her request? A sudden 
calm came upon me after the struggle of the moment. 
Why should I refuse this fortune within my easy 
grasp. Why throw away an opportunity of making 
the girl I loved my happy wife, because the way to do 
so did not seem so clean and clear as the path I had 
hitherto followed. What had my staunch adherance to 
principle gained for me in life? Repudiation at the 
hand of one I loved. Reproach from my brother, the 
knowledge that even Susy doubted the wisdom of my 
conduct. 

In my hurried recapitulation one can readily see how 
I thrust forward my own mistakes, to bear the burden 
of my real motive. They had never blamed me for my 
allegiance to my true instinct, but the manner in 
which I carried out that allegiance. Then what harm 
could I do this girl? None whatever. All she asked 
4 


Janita's Dower. 


50 

was that I should simply marry her, and get her safely 
out of the country. Young, beautiful, she should bt 
treated with the greatest respect and care. 

“ You have consented,” she said, creeping up to me, 
and lifting her lovely dark eyes to read my face. 

I took her hands in mine then, and looked down into 
her eyes. 

“ Swear, as you hope to save your soul, you will 
never betray our union, and I in turn swear to protect 
you as you desire, and as in your youth and beauty you 
deserve. You cannot realize all this means now, and 
I trust you can never realize as I do all you have done 
to-night.” 

“ I do not understand. Tell me how to say it.” 

“ I, Janita Orme, solemnly swear to keep my faith 
with John Willoughby. So help me God.” 

She repeated it after me mechanically, then bent 
and pressed her lips to my hand, while I felt her 
tears fall upon it. This startled me. I drew my hand 
away, and she hastily brushed her tears aside. It 
was her first moment of weakness. 

“ I thank you,” she said brokenly. Then she 
stepped toward the mantel-shelf, and I followed her. 
With her slender hands she pushed and strove with 
the panel immediately over the fireplace. 

“ I have not the strength. Put your hands as I do 
and push,” she said, panting. 

I did so and the panel slid slowly back, disclosing 
a hollow square, and in the square was a box of wood 
with iron clamps at the corners. I dragged it forth 


Janita’s Dower. 


51 

with a great effort, and placed it on the floor, and 
Janita’s hands trembled as she strove with the clasp. 

“ The money is not here,” she said, “ look again in 
the slide.” I rose quickly and putting my hand in the 
square brought forth a bag of money, another, and 
still another. I opened one of the bags and found in 
it both English gold and silver, and considerable 
United States coin. 

I was reaching in once more, baffled by the flickering' 
candle-light that gave me but a partial glimpse of the 
depth of the square, when an exclamation from the 
girl fell on my ear. I glanced toward her. 

She was employed decking herself in the jewels from 
the box. Diamonds sparkled in her ears, a royal dia- 
dem of rubies shone amid her dark tresses, she had 
wound around her white throat a strand of yellow 
pearls, and about her slender wrists glimmered rich 
gems. She was contemplating the reflection of her 
grandeur in a small mirror she had found in the box. 
Something in the innocence of her childish delight and 
its incongruity with the jewels, many of which had 
doubtless bought souls to “ be cast into outer dark- 
ness,” smote me heavily. I spoke therefore sharply, 
as to a child. 

“ Janita, replace those jewels. They do not belong 
to you, nor do they become you.” 

“ How dare you so to lie about me ! ” she replied, 
with sudden anger. “ You know I am beautiful.” 

But she snatched the jewels from her wrist and hair, 
only pausing as she touched the pearls on her neck. 


52 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ Let me keep these.” 

“ No, I wish to have those more than all the box 
contains,” I said eagerly, remembering Harold’s 
words that evening. Ah ! Susy should never wear 
pearls given her by Harold now, I thought with ex- 
ultation. 

“Will you grant me nothing?” said Janita, plain- 
tively. “ These are my very own. They were my 
mother’s. Must you have them? I have asked so 
little.” 

Her lashes drooped, but I saw the quiver of those 
lovely lips. 

“ Take them, Janita,” I said grimly. “ You will 
ask for my soul next.” 

Already I felt what a power the helplessness of her 
position exercised over me. 

We carefully restored all the treasures to the square, 
as I decided at once it must be removed cautiously. 

“ You must tell the old man down-stairs it was not 
true that money lay hidden here,” Janita said as we 
were restoring the jewel box. 

“ Good heavens ! he will suspect my wealth,” I 
cried aghast. 

“ Oh, no ; he knows nothing. I took him to the 
other side, to a cellar. He had a dream — something 
told him of a treasure there. It was not there — he 
looked and saw it not.” 

She gave a dainty little shrug, spreading her hands 
an instant and smiling. The gesture was irresistible 
and I smiled also. 


Jantia’s Dower. 


53 

“ Wise little one,” I said, in a caressing tone, as to a 
child, then checked myself hastily, as I realized all 
my speech involved. I was approving her deceit. But 
she spoke quickly. 

“And now when will you marry me? Meet me on 
the third night from this at the church door, in the small 
church beyond this road. You know it? ” 

“ I know there is such a church — it is a Catholic 
church — I am a Protestant, Janita.” 

“ No matter — you will come, or better, perhaps you 
can bring some one. You know so much.” She looked 
eagerly for confirmation. 

“ Listen, Janita, I can get you away from this 
country without marrying you. I can protect you as 
well without this ” 

“ But you swore — you promised — you would now 
deceive me ” 

“ No, child, not that, but do you not see ” 

“ No, I see only that you are false, and if I thought 
you would not do as I say — Oh ! Mother of God, have 
you indeed forsaken me ? ” She. fell upon her knees 
wringing her hands. 

I raised her gently, soothing her as I would a child. 
She soon grew quiet, and clung to me. Then as if 
tacitly accepting my care as equivalent to my consent 
to all that had gone before, she raised her face to me, 
tear-stained, but lovely, like a repentant child, waiting 
to be kissed and forgiven. I hesitated, then met the 
sweet lips with my own, and from that moment I only 


54 


Janita’s Dower. 


longed to possess the wealth I could gain through her. 
My conscience was dead. 

She grew crimson beneath the caress, and drew 
away from me. Then with no other word, led the way 
for our return. 

I was beyond surprise now, and when half-way down 
the narrow stairs, she paused and pushed a panel in 
the wall aside, thus enabling us to emerge upon a 
large room. I followed her with great confidence. 
Half-way across the room, however, a shudder seized 
me. I suddenly recalled all that I had heard of this 
room. It was the ballroom, through which, in lurid 
flame, the ghost of Colonel Axtell’s mistress had floated, 
to haunt him and strike death to his heart. 

Janita paused, and looked back at me, her great eyes 
full of something that chilled me strangely. 

“ I wish,” she said softly, ” I wish some one loved 
me.” 

I can hear the words now as they echoed gently, and 
they come to me like a wail of loneliness. I made no 
reply, but laid my hand on my lips, silencing her. 

On entering the wide hall from the broad stairway, 
Mr. Kennedy hastened toward us followed by Harold. 
Both were agitated. 

“ What folly is this ? ” cried Harold, seizing my 
arm. “ We have been in an agony of suspense.” 

“ A foolish whim of the child to frighten us all,” I 
replied calmly. She has even treated me to a ghost.” 

The resolution to do that which is wrong, makes the 
first step to the stairway leading downward, and we 


Janita’s Dower. 55 

find it an easy footing afterwards until we try once 
more to climb. 

“ Let us be gone at once,” said Mr. Kennedy, nerv- 
ously. 

“ My girl, you have taken much trouble in our behalf. 
Accept this reward. I presume you thought it only 
just to test oulr nerves further, but it was a foolish, 
cruel joke. I trust you will never treat any one else 
thus. Come lads.” 

We all passed out of the door through which we 
came, Janita holding the candle. As I passed her I 
bore with me a light touch of her hand on mine, and 
the whispered word — “ Remember.” 


56 


Janita’s Dower. 


CHAPTER IV. 

“ This is the night. 

That either makes me or fordoes me quite.” 

— Shakespeare, 

The snow was falling fast once more, as we stumbled 
along through the grounds on our way to the street, to 
find the coachman awaiting us in some impatience. 
In silence we drove rapidly back to Brooklyn. 

Once during the drive Mr. Kennedy spoke in evi- 
dent distress at the indefinable dissension that seemed 
to lie between us, since Harold’s angry exclamation 
at his want of discretion. 

“ John — Harold,” he said earnestly, “ I am sorry 
to have involved you in a foolish, fruitless adventure. 
It seems fraught with little save nervous apprehension. 
I am going to beg of you not to mention it to any one, it 
would only serve to make us laughing stock. And I 
must especially beg your pardon, John, for inadvertently 
permitting that little wretch to extract from me your 
affair with Susy. I hardly remember how I came to 
speak of it. When I first went there this evening, I 
found her looking very sad. She had been weeping. 
I felt sorry for her, and we talked some time. By 
Jove ! she was a little beauty. Not so fair as little Puss, 
however, eh, John ? ” 


Janita's Dower. 


57 

Harold stirred uneasily, at the reference to Susy. 
But I replied indifferently, and Mr. Kennedy, after 
an attempt to make Harold talk, lapsed once more 
into silence. 

As we neared my lodgings Harold quietly asked per- 
mission to return with Mr. Kennedy to his home, saying 
that he had mislaid his key. Mr. Kennedy was de- 
lighted to have him accept the hospitality of his 
house, but did not help matters between Harold and 
myself by adding awkardly, “ But come, I say, boys — 
you are not going to let that little black-eyed witch 
make mischief between you. Shake hands, do, or I 
shall never forgive myself for persuading you to go 
with me.” 

“ Good night. Will see you to-morrow, Harold,” 
I said, but Harold made no reply. He had not spoken 
to me since I had turned from him, and his whispered 
appeal in the cellar. I saw them drive away with a 
sense of relief. But there was no rest for me that 
night. I feverishly paced my room and planned my 
future. I was transported to a new world in which my 
desire took tangible shape and seemed no longer a 
mirage, raised by false hope. My appropriation of this 
wealth brought all within my power. There was no 
real happiness to me without Susy. My love for her 
had been the absorbing affection of youth and man- 
hood. The thought of losing her maddened me, while 
on the other hand, the delight of making her my wife, 
to have always close at my side she who seemed to be 
my good angel, made me blind to the course of dishonor 


Janita’s Dower. 


58 

and disgrace I was about to adopt, in order to win her. 

How many of us in the eager turmoil of attaining 
our desire, pause to consider the means by which we 
gain an end? In small matters, or in great, when 
temptations assail us, do we not often court the dark 
influence, smothering conscience with the reflection that 
our motive is a good one? Some one — some new au- 
thor in my day I think — has written, “ Every woman is 
a Jesuit at heart.” Better far had he written, know- 
ing all humanity, that the Jesuit shrewdly created his 
maxim to flatter the human heart into a false belief in 
its own strength. Men and women alike, we lull the 
waking conscience with a text or two, and go on break- 
ing the commandments at will. 

My plan now was to go at once to Susy’s parents, in- 
form them of a rise in my position and salary, also of 
success of certain stock in which I had invested. Thus 
I would consistently account for my sudden change of 
fortune. I would arrange for our marriage in two 
weeks, on Christmas night. We had waited so long 
we would gladly make haste now. 

I should have to gratify the girl Janita’s whim for a 
marriage, but it would really amount to nothing. Even 
should she persuade her priest to marry us, which I 
doubted, knowing their objection to performing a mar- 
riage secretly, or mysteriously, the girl would have no 
witnesses, and it would hardly stand in the eyes of the 
law. No license was necessary, in fact if at this time 
I had merely stood up in the presence of witnesses and 
proclaimed myself Janita’s husband and she likewise 


Janita’s Dower. 


59 

made known her intention of becoming my wife, it 
would have been considered a perfectly legal tie. But 
without witnesses such a ceremony availed nothing. I 
planned deliberately, without compunction, for the 
course I was about to pursue. My marriage with 
Susy, the power of giving her all she craved of luxury, 
the intense pleasure I should derive from her happi- 
ness, absorbed all my being, save those eager impulses 
that served to achieve my end. 

In my later years I have seen men who had lived 
long lives of usefulness and probity throw away honor 
and high position by staking all on some bold business 
speculation to add to their means to deck fair wives 
and beloved children ; straining every nerve to achieve 
great wealth, using any means, following any channel, 
however dangerous or dubious, absolutely blind to the 
dirt with which they stained their hands and utterly 
oblivious of their moral suicide, and happy in that they 
might pour luxury upon those they loved. I have seen 
these men before courts, stricken and dumb in the face 
of accusation, that left their families a mark for the fin- 
ger of scorn and anguish. 

My heart has gone out to their wretchedness, for I 
knew they once stood as I did, and being tempted fell, 
led by what they, in their blind folly, deemed to be the 
holiest inspiration of their lives. 

The dawn found me worn and haggard. I threw 
myself on the bed for a few hours’ sleep before facing 
the world in my changed condition. 

Susy’s surprise and pleasure were pretty to witness 


6o 


Janita’s Dower. 


when she learned how soon she was to become my 
bride. I found it a little hard to meet her clear glance, 
as I had the night before, but I recalled that never old 
masculine sophistry, that man is never so pure and 
clean in deed or thought as the woman he loves, and 
that his contact with a rough world naturally leads him 
into by-paths he would shudder to have her contem- 
plate. 

During the day I made arrangements for Janita’s 
departure. I found a sailing vessel, owned by a 
Frenchman, and took passage in it for Janita for 
France, under the name of Mrs. Sydney. As the ves- 
sel was to sail in ten days, I also busied myself making 
other arrangements. 

I made various trips to Flatbush and the house in 
securing the treasure, seeing Janita each visit, and find- 
ing her always the same — a woman — ^yet a child. She 
seemed anxious that I should remove the money and 
jewels as rapidly as possible. She was always alone. 
When the last of the money was removed, however, she 
detained me one night. 

“ To-night,” she said, “ you will marry me.” 

Her 'eyes shone strangely. She seemed struggling 
with emotion and fear. 

“ As you will, Janita. Have you made any arrange- 
ment, will your priest marry us ? ” I asked carelessly. 

“ Ah ! you do not care then. You would have 
proved false to your word,” she cried passionately. 
“ Are there none true in the world ? I believed you, I 
trusted you ! ” 


Janita’s Dower. 6i 

“ Do not let us have more of this folly. What do 
you require me to do ? ” I asked sternly. 

“ Listen,” she said hurriedly. “ After to-night I 
dare not have you come here. If you do, it may be 
your death. So you must go now, and return at once. 
Bring some one who will marry us. Fulfill your 
promise to me, as I have performed mine — or I will 
betray you to that girl you love.” 

She finished with a fierce flash in her dark eyes, and 
I knew she was capable of carrying out the threat. I 
soothed her by telling her of the arrangements I had 
already made, and promising to return, departed. 

I had little time for reflection. I must return in two 
hours, and in that time must find some one to perform 
the marriage ceremony. I had led a very quiet life of 
drudgery since my rupture with my aunt, dropping en- 
tirely out of the social world, and I had made compara- 
tively few friends among those of my profession. 
There was one, however, with whom I had been 
recently thrown, in my arrangements for Janita’s de- 
parture. A guest on the Frenchman’s vessel, a young 
Catholic priest. My thoughts turned at once to him. 
He seemed the very instrument sent to carry out the 
purpose. It would gratify Janita, and he having no 
acquaintance on this side the water, unable to speak 
any English, and pleased with my use of his language, 
would oblige me, yet never betray me. I had little 
difficulty in persuading him to accompany me, although 
I did not explain the quiet nature of the ceremony. 
But on the way I told him as much as I thought best. 


62 


Janita’s Dower. 


To my surprise an old woman, bent and homely, 
opened the door for us at the hall, and led the way to 
the same large room we had entered before. 

A somewhat genial blaze had been kindled on the 
hearth, and in its glow stood Janita. I shall never for- 
get the sudden thrill that shook me, as I gazed at her. 
She had arrayed herself in white, a robe somewhat 
worn, but carefully arranged. Her soft round arms 
and smooth neck were bare, and she had wound about 
her throat the pearls I had said might be hers. She 
raised her great eyes to my face entreatingly, and I 
then saw in the shadow of the room a dark figure. 
My heart throbbed painfully with a sudden fear. 

“What does this mean?’’ I demanded of Janita. 

“ I am here to comply with my promise. Who- is this 
man — this woman? You have betrayed me? ” 

I spoke in French, and at my tone the figure emerged 
and I knew him to be the priest of whom Janita spoke 
the night of our first interview. 

“ I am here to see that this girl is not wrotiged. I 
know you as little as I know the girl. I refused to 
marrv vou, but I will see that she is not dealt with 
falsely.’’ 

I bent my head in acknowledgment of these slow, 
stern words, and beckoned to my companion to ad- * 
vance. 

The instant relief on the face of the elder priest as 
sured me that I had quieted his fears, while my new , 
friend opened his book, and prepared to make Janita 
my wife. Of course he spoke in French in making the 


Janita’s Dower. 


63 

first inquiries, then followed the shorter Latin form, used 
by the Church. I confess I scarcely knew the moment 
that made me the husband of the trembling girl at my 
side, my knowledge of Latin being far more limited 
than my knowledge of French. At the conclusion of 
the ceremony, the priests exchanged a few words in 
Latin, and then the elder priest, after admonishing me 
to care for the girl depending on me for her future, 
withdrew with the woman, whom I learned afterwards 
was his housekeeper. 

The young priest also withdrew, with instructions to 
send the vehicle back as soon as possible, for I fully in- 
tended that Janita should go aboard the vessel that 
night. This would involve her being on the vessel a 
day before setting sail, but all anxiety on my part would 
be at an end. 

Thus we were left alone, in the dimly lighted room. 
My poor little bride stood pale and drooping before me. 

“ Are you satisfied ? ” I asked somewhat bitterly, for 
I resented her distrust as heartily as if I had not de- 
served it. 

“ I am satisfied,” she spoke in a low tone. 

“ Then listen, Janita. As I have kept my promise, 
you must keep yours. To-night I place you on board 
the vessel which will take you to France. On Christ- 
mas night, now two days hence, I am to be married to — 
to — my betrothed. Here is a paper you must sign, 
promising never to break faith with me.” 

She made a gesture of surprise and impatience. 

“ You have my word ! I will not sign a paper. I 


Janita’s Dower. 


64 

want to see tlijs girl you love so well, that you will risk 
your soul to win her.” 

I started as if her words were a lash. 

“ Risk my soul ! ” I repeated her words, as their 
weight fell fully upon me. 

“ Ay, perjurer you cannot but be, when you marry 
her. I am your true wife.” Then softening her voice, 
“ Ah ! John — do not look so white — I have promised, I 
too can be kind. Only let me see her — let me see the 
pure, fair woman.” 

“ Impossible ! ” I replied, still turning over her phrase 
in my mind. Perjured — dishonored — forsworn — these 
words linked themselves together like mocking fiends, 
and rose to confront me, 

Janita bent toward me, her eyes brimming with tears, 

“ Are you so cruel to deny me this ? ” I have given 
you much wealth, — your heart’s desire, yet you refuse 
me this. Just one glimpse of the woman for whom I 
am sacrificed,” 

“ It is no sacrifice,” I replied. “ You wished to 
marry me thus, asking only what I have granted. 
Heaven forgive us, it is she who is sacrificed, since you 
are my wife. Do quickly as I bid you. Sign this 
paper, make ready to go with me. I have treated you 
as a woman, but I shall force you to do my bidding like 
the child you are. Janita, do you hear me? ” 

I laid my hand on her white arm warningly. She 
shook off the touch. 

“ I will not go with you until you promise I shall 
see your bride. Dare to touch me again as you did 


Janita's Dower. 


65 

just now, and I ” she drew from some place about 

her dress a keen little dagger. It was a mere toy, but 
the flash of her eyes spoke for her purpose. The utter 
absurdity of such a weapon in her hand, the lack of 
strength in those white, smooth wrists, would have 
made me smile at any other time. 

“ Listen, John Willoughby,” she continued, “ I must 
see the woman you love. Oh ! is she so pure and noble 
I may not even come near her? What does she ad- 
mire in you. I who am only little Janita might love 
you as no other woman dare. But she — oh ! I will see 
her ! ” 

I stood dismayed and helpless. In that moment I 
knew Janita loved me, and I felt how powerless I was 
to move her, save through that love. This I could 
never stoop to do. I loathed the thought, but the hor- 
ror of discovery was strong upon me. I must think 
and think quickly. 

Suddenly Janita started and threw her hands to her 
head. 

“ Hark ! ” she cried, as if listening. “ Ah ! yes, they 
return. Go — go — at once. Not that way — oh, not 
that way ! ” she cried. 

Filled with vague alarm, I turned to the usual mode 
of egress, the large door. She laid her hand on my 
arm, drawing me to a side door. In a moment we were 
racing the length of the basement corridor, and through 
one of the cellars, to a long dark passage. Here Janita 
paused leaning against me, panting. 

“ Go — go — now,” she murmured. “ I — I must go 
5 


66 Janitas Dower. 

back and meet them. They will only beat me — they 
would kill you.” 

“ Janita, what does this mean? ” I demanded. 

“ Ask me nothing, but go. Come to-morrow, just 
before dark, I will do all, anything you ask — yes, yes — 
John — I will obey, if it kills me.” 

Before I realized her intention, her soft arms were 
about my neck, I felt her lips against my face, and her 
warm tears fell upon me, then with a sob, she fled down 
the dark alley, and I stood alone. 


Janita’s Dower. 


67 


CHAPTER V. 

“ I hear a voice that cries, Alas, Alas ! 

Whatever hath beeln written shall remain. 

Nor be erased, nor written o’er again,” 

— Longfellow, 

Only my strong desire to relate in truthful detail 
all that occurred, sparing nought in the narrative that 
will read as extenuation of my conduct, urges me to 
write what follows. 

God grant that it may appeal to more than one soul 
trembling before taking the last fatal step, plunging 
them into an abyss filled with restless pain and remorse. 
God grant that many who peruse these lines, and re- 
member such a moment of trial and temptation, may 
also reflect with thankful hearts, that they had strength 
to stand, and may it make them more lenient toward the 
weak-hearted. 

In the days ensuing between my removal of the last 
treasure from the old house and my marriage to Susy, 
I was as a man pursued by furies. 

“ Perjured, dishonored, forsworn ! ” 

Since Janita’s beautiful lips had uttered these words, 
they had lurked about me like evil spirits. 

Not forced upon me, and rousing me to a keen sense 
of their meaning, but whispering and sighing a muffled 


68 


Janita’s Dower. 


taunt that assailed and shook me, in a choking, stifling 
undertone, as I bent to my task or talked with some 
friend. 

I fortified myself against every doubt. I crushed 
down the haunting voice, I would not look behind at 
what I had been a few weeks before, and compare the 
secret torture of my life, to the easy discontent of my 
free conscience. 

I fought desperately with my old ideas of honor and 
morality, my will rendered doubly strong by having to 
face the inevitable fact, that a confession at this late 
date would ruin me forever. 

Yet even though my strong resolution would break 
those insidious whispers, “ Perjured, dishonored, for- 
sworn ” — and I would catch my breath and listen, long- 
ing to cry aloud in contradiction. Even now I do not 
know that I realized the sin I was committing, or 
whether my agony was not for the horrible scourging 
terror of having my duplicity discovered. Let him 
judge who has wrestled with the demons that strove 
within me. 

I had procured a strong box and gradually removed 
the treasure to my bank. As yet I had not touched the 
money or jewels. I could not bring myself to bestow 
the rubies upon Susy. Something withheld me. 

I think my brother avoided me carefully. At any 
rate we saw little of each other after that night at old 
Axtell Hall. Strangely enough, Mr. Kennedy had ad- 
vised my selling some Clanmorgan stock I held, and in 
doing so I doubled the money invested. Thus my bank 


Janita’s Dower. 


69 

account was increased twofold and I felt that this alone 
would have enabled me to wed my darling. But I 
dared not dwell upon the thought, it maddened me. 
To Mr. Kennedy’s surprise and satisfaction I put half 
into his hands to reinvest and he promised it should 
treble the amount in a short time. 

I was now beset with doubt as to whether Janita 
would keep her promise to me. Even had she signed a 
contract to do so, I still doubted her fulfilling her part 
honorably. 

I dared not go to the house again until the day she 
had named for I knew by the terror in her eyes that 
she had good reason for wishing me to stay away. 
What was the fear overwhelming her ? What mystery 
lurked behind the words which I scarcely heeded in my 
eagerness for the treasure. Unlike any other act of my 
life, had been the avaricious haste with which I had 
seized the treasure, but I was urged to it by the fiendish 
jealousy that seemed to have become a guide to all my 
conduct since I had known that my brother also loved 
my betrothed. 

Only Janita could tell me why the gold I had secured 
had been buried in Axtell Hall. I had refrained from 
all questions up to this moment, and now I found my- 
self filled with eager doubts and fears upon this ques- 
tion, yet I was doomed to wait until Christmas Eve, 
the night before my wedding with Susy, in order to 
even see Janita again. I should not know until then 
whether she intended to leave the country as she had 
promised. 


Janita’s Dower. 


70 

It had been arranged that Susy and I were to be 
quietly married Christmas day at four o’clock. Susy 
told me, with a lovely blush, of her simple preparations ; 
of the gown she had fashioned herself, how pretty it 
was ; and how the veil she would wear was her mother’s 
bridal veil. “ And Harold was here last night, John, ” 
she added slowly. 

“ Ah ! I have not seen Harold for some time.” 

“ He said he thought you would have told him of our 
marriage. He heard it through Mr. Kennedy. He 
seemed so hurt, John, that you should not have told 
him yourself, and he looked pale and thin. He gave 
me these as a wedding gift.” 

She held forth a small box as she spoke, containing a 
set of pearls. The earrings were like fairy tears, and 
the necklace had a diamond clasp, while a long spray 
of pearls was intended to catch back my darling’s sunny 
hair, 

I gazed at the pearls, but said nothing, while I re- 
membered my own thought the night I found the 
jewels, and my harsh words to my brother. He had 
not given her the ring, and now I felt he never would 
do so. Harold had learned to know his heart through 
procuring the ring, and would hate the sight of it hence- 
forth. 

“ Are not my pearls beautiful? ” asked Susy. 

“ Yes,” I replied and sighed. 

“ Poor boy, you are tired,” she said caressingly. “You 
are working too hard. But, John dear, you will see 
Harold, and ask him to come to our wedding? He has 


Janita’s Dower. 


71 


done no wrong, that you should avoid him. We can 
never expect to conciliate Aunt Mildred, but we must 
never become estranged from Harold.” 

I kissed the sweet lips that plead for my brother, 
while a pain shot through my heart. 

“ I will ask him Susy,” I said “ but do not ask me to 
go to him. You write a nice little note and explain. I 
am very busy. Or better still, did you not ask him for 
Christmas eve, to help us in decking the tree? I will 
see him then, and urge him by all the brotherly love in 
my power to come and see me meet my doom.” I tried 
to speak very lightly. 

“ True I had almost forgotten the tree,” said Susy, 
“ and we must have it a very bright, beautiful tree, too. 
The children must remember our wedding day. But 
John, go to Harold,! pray you. Oh ! you must conquer 
this proud spirit. It breaks my heart, and it is griev- 
ing Harold.” 

Oh ! sweet Susy, how little you realized what was 
wearing on Harold’s life, driving the color from his 
cheeks, and hope from his heart. 

I gave her a promise, however, and left her feeling 
rather than acknowledging the gulf that lay between 
her innocent spirit and my tortured conscience. I little 
knew that in fulfilling that promise I should add fuel 
to the consuming flame of jealousy raging within me, 
which had already led me into loss of honor. 

The next day I went to his studio. I had walked my- 
self into a passive mood of absolute coldness. I found 
him at work on a large canvas and he sprang up look- 


72 


Janita’s Dower. 


ing surprised and a little confused. This I passed over 
lightly, assuming an air of gaiety little in keeping with 
that evil whisper that grew ever louder in my ears, as I 
jested on my ecstatic condition, due to the near ap- 
proach of my nuptials. 

Harold heard me with downcast eyes, then wrung 
my hand somewhat nervously, and wished me all happi- 
ness. He then told me that he was to go abroad with 
Aunt Mildred in June. He spoke listlessly, and the old 
glad light had gone out of his dark eyes; a few stern 
lines of self-control had settled about his youthful 
mouth. 

“ There are things money cannot buy,” I reflected as 
I talked with him, and the whispers suddenly took an- 
other form, and replied, stabbing me with every misty 
breath : 

- “ Ay — honor, and character can never be bought at 
any price.” 

“ You have heard of the rise in Clan-morgan stock? ” 
I asked him, striving to subdue the ugly voices. 

“ Yes, I met Mr. Kennedy, and he said your specu- 
lation proved a good one, and he presumed it was this 
and an increase of salary which lead to your marriage. 
I am glad you have not forgotten to tell me of your 
good fortune. I fancied you avoided me of late.” 

And he gave me a wistful, appealing glance. 

“ Nonsense Harold, men who are struggling with 
life’s issues, as we must henceforth, have little time to 
devote to the sentimentalities.” 

“ I never was so lonely in my life as during the last 


Janita’s Dower. 


73 

few months,” he said mournfully, and turned his face 
a little away from me. Poor lad! Why did I not 
clasp his shoulders, and then and there, in the old 
loving fashion, tell him I understood all he suffered? 

“ Money will not buy love or contentment,” I said 
mentally, in the silence that followed, and quickly 
came the reply : 

“ But it will buy false oaths, dishonor and per- 
jury.” 

Great Heavens! did the voices speak aloud? No 
Harold did not start as I had done. He still sat 
half turned from me, and no word had passed be- 
tween us since his last speech. I spoke with studied 
formality. 

“ You have companions old and new. I did not 
dream of yours being a lonely existence. I see you 
have made great progress in your studies. You are 
to make our name famous, remember.” 

“ I am discouraged, but I shall try to resume my 
old audacity when I reach Paris.” 

“ What is that head yonder ? Surely it is ” 

“ Susy ? yes. Only half finished, you see. I shall 
complete it for you later,” he said, turning the por- 
trait to the wall, with a forced smile ; “ here is some 

thing I sketched from memory. You know my am- 
bition is for figures. I think I shall finish this for 
Kennedy, and invite him to purchase it in memory 
of our late adventure.” 

So saying he placed upon the easel a clever sketch 
of a girl holding over her head a candle. 


74 


Janita’s Dower. 


It was Janita, her lithe form and delicate arm and 
wrist, all save the face. That remained a blank. 

“ Strangely enough I cannot remember the face,” 
said Harold, musingly. “ It was a beautiful type 
too, but the features baffle me. I should be glad of 
a reasonable explanation of her presence and strange 
conduct.” 

I did not reply, I stood gazing upon the sketch, 
seeing in the blank space upon the paper, a scornful, 
beautiful face, while I heard like the sudden rush of 
the wind amid the summer trees, those whispers — 
“Dishonor, perjured, forsworn!” 

As he tossed the sketch aside impatiently I, fearing 
the effect of my sudden silence, and change of coun- 
tenance, with an effort gathered myself together, and 
extended to him in a measured tone the invitation to 
my marriage. 

He turned quickly and looked into my eyes, and 
in a moment we both knew what was in the other’s 
soul. Harold grew very white, and for a moment I 
thought he was going to swoon. He tried to speak 
but failed, and I turned from him and left him in 
bitter silence. We both understood that we were be- 
yond words, and that henceforth we were only 
brothers in name. 

Christmas eve found me with a goodly task before 
me. I must make the trip to Flatbush, see Janita, 
and if possible place her safely on board the sailing 
vessel. Then return at a reasonable hour to assist 
Susy in decking the Christmas tree. I had promised 


Janita’s Dower. 


75 

to aid her, in this her last act of sisterly love in the 
home that had been made so bright by* her presence. 

The following day I should carry her away as my 
bride, and on our return from a short sojourn 
among relatives of Susy’s who lived in the moun- 
tains, we should live with Susy’s parents until I could 
build my own house. For with the money made 
with my successful speculation, I intended to build a 
house, and for the rest, there was the treasure. Yet 
I shrank even now, as I thought of using this 
strangely-gotten wealth. 

I arrived at the old house that evening at dusk, and 
tapped gently again and again on the door. There 
was no response to the summons. I carefully skirted 
the rear of the house, and tried the basement en- 
trance. It availed nothing, and I stood still in great 
dismay. I felt Janita’s treachery as keenly as if I 
had acted only a noble part toward her. I mark 
well that our own ill-deeds seldom equal the propor- 
tions of the ill done us. As I stood thus a man came 
toward me. 

“ What do you want here ? ” he demanded, 
roughly. Then seeing my appearance, he changed 
his tone at once. 

“ Beg pardon, sir. I have been placed here as a 
sort of watchman. Since the Hall has stood empty, 
they have suspected it of having been broken into, 
and used as a harbor for tramps and thieves. I mis- 
took you, sir.” 


Janita’s Dower. 


76 

“ No offense. But do you tell me the house has 
been long empty ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. Leastways it’s been a good bit of two 
years. It’s haunted they do say,” he added with a 
grin, “ but I reckon it is mainly by rats and spiders. 
Folks say they’ve seen lights flittin’ around, but it 
is their own light-headedness I guess, and they mis- 
took it.” 

“ I was impressed by the peculiar architecture. 
Who owns the house ? ” I asked, glad that the man 
had not seen me when I knocked for admittance. 

It belongs to some English folks. It is in an 
agent’s hands now.” 

“ Thank you. I shall ask you some day to let me 
look through it, if you have the keys,” I said 
sauvely, and leaving a piece of silver in his hand, de- 
parted full of consternation. 

I drove at once to Mrs. Sidney’s residence, for I 
knew Susy would be awaiting my arrival. 

She opened the door for me radiant and lovely, 
and caressed me with shy coquetry. Sweet, childish, 
lovely Susy ! For a moment all my fears vanished, 
and I believed myself the John Willoughby to whom 
she plighted her troth. It was only for a moment, 
however, for the accursed whispers assailed me even 
while my lips met hers, and I heard behind her gentle 
tones those piercing words: “Perjured, dishonored, 
forsworn ! ” 

I listened mechanically to Susy’s gay chatter, as 


Janitas Dower. 


11 

we decked the tree. I replied absently several times, 
to her amusement. 

“ I do not believe Harold is coming,” she said, 
glancing at the clock, the hands of which pointed 
to nine. 

“ You expected him ? ” I inquired. 

“Why, John! You know I asked him to come,” 
she returned. “ What ails you. Jack dear, that you 
are so forgetful? I do not believe you listen to one 
word I say,” with a slight pout. 

“ Oh yes, I do, Susy mine. I went to see Harold 
the other day, and he did not speak of coming to- 
night. Perhaps he is also forgetful.” 

“ So it seems,” said Susy, struggling with a re- 
fractory candle that would not stand erect on the 
tree. “ I wish he had not forgotten to come. His 
artistic instinct would never have permitted us to put 
that green trimming against the dark blue. It looks 
horridly. Jack.” 

“ Oh, it will do,” I replied carelessly, “ the children 
will not be critical.” 

Our task was accomplished. The tree would be a 
marvel of delight to the children. 

Susy leaning against me, nestled closer in my arms, 
and laid her golden head on my shoulder as she gazed 
upon its dazzling wonders. 

“ Jack dear,” she said, “ It does not seem possible 
that to-morrow I shall be your wife. Such a dear, 
quiet little wedding too, and my dress is so becoming, 
Jack. How long we have waited and planned our 


Janita’s Dower. 


78 

future; the tea-set, the table-cover, and it is all come 
true. It is wonderful, isn’t it, Jackey?” 

For reply I pressed her hand to my lips. 

“ And don’t you remember. Jack, it was only a 
short time ago, I made you promise to put all anxious 
thoughts aside. They only led you to be so eager 
and grasping for wealth. Papa says an avaricious, 
discontented spirit seldom attains what it most de- 
sires. I knew it would all come right without your 
anxiety. See how our wishes have been gratified, 
dear: Your salary raised, the stock paying well, and 
everything turning to our good. Oh! Jack, we 
should be so thankful.” 

Alas I every word cut me to the heart like a knife. 
My lies repeated by her lips, were as the words of an 
accusing angel. 

“ And Jack dearest,” she continued softly, “ I think 
it was because I prayed God to bless us according to 
his will. And if in the years to come, I should not 
prove all you think me — you are so much wiser and 
better in many ways than I am — you ” 

“ Oh, Susy, Susy ! ” I interrupted her, almost 
groaning. 

“ There,” she said, with a tearful laugh, “ I know 
all you would say! Don’t say it. Jack, because I 
know better. But it is pleasant to feel how perfectly 
we understand each other. No secrets to discover; 
no unpleasant tempers to peep forth after marriage. 
Oh ! I know you. Jack, like a book,” shaking her 
finger in my face merrily. “ You are naughty — and 


Janita’s Dower. 79 

cross sometimes, but — I love you ! ” and then she hid 
her face and its blushes against my breast. 

In another moment she looked up as if suddenly 
recalling something. 

“ Oh ! I have a surprise for you. Mamma said it 
would be charming, and would prepare you in a 
measure for to-morrow. I am sure we should re- 
gard your poor nerves and state of mind, John dear. 
I shall ask Harold to carry some sal volatile, in case 
you swoon during the ceremony. Now wait here and 
I will soon return.” She laughed merrily at her own 
nonsense and tripped from the room. 

I paced the floor in sudden uncontrollable agony, 
keeping step to the sobbing ceaseless sound of those 
murmuring voices. Her innocent happiness only re- 
vealed my own dark conduct in its worst aspect. The 
veil of my determined resolution was being torn aside. 
Nearer and nearer I approached the truth and felt the 
real sense of my duplicity and the awful crime I was 
about to commit. 

Great drops of perspiration stood upon my fore- 
head. I trembled in every limb. What could I do? 
Throw myself at Susy’s feet, confess my dishonor, 
and lose her forever ? Oh — no — no — yet better a 
thousand times lose her than blast her tender life for- 
ever! Cheat her I might, but never again could I 
cheat myself into a peaceful knowledge of my own 
worthiness. I was already dead to honor and manli- 
ness, in that I permitted her sweet lips to touch mine, 
rendered foul by falsehood. Dead ! Ay I as dead as 


8o 


Janita’s Dower. 


if the brown earth was heaped upon my breast and 
I lay stark and cold, hidden from her loving glance 
forever. 

I heard the door open, and I turned to see Susy 
entering slowly. But ah! it was Susy in bridal rai- 
ment, the white folds falling about her slight form, 
while the veil covered her sweet rosy face like a soft 
mist. 

The pearls, Harold’s gift, gleamed upon her neck, 
and caught her veil among the golden tresses. She 
was like a beautiful poem, dreamed, yet unsung, and 
one that the poet would despair of finding a rhythm 
of words to express the wonder of her presence. 

The sight of her thus smiling and blushing, await- 
ing my approval, the light of those dear eyes shining 
trustfully, seemed to blast me as an angel’s might, 
and I made no step toward her, but stood dumbly gaz- 
ing. 

At the same moment the hall door opened, and I 
saw Janita Orme stand in the doorway, closely fol- 
lowed by my brother. 

Susy did not see them. She stepped toward me 
quickly. 

“ John, you are ill,” she said in terror. “ You are 
like a ghost. I am sorry if I startled you.” 

“ John,” my brother’s voice came in even tones of 
studied restraint, “ this young woman says she has 
some business with you. I met her on my way hither, 
inquiring for you.” 


Janita’s Dower. 8i 

“ I lost my way. He was most kind to direct 
me,” broke in Janita, with her slight accent. 

“ I fear we intrude,” said "Harold, biting his lip 
between vexation, and the quick emotion excited by 
Susy’s appearance. Susy turned at the sound of 
Harold’s voice, looking startled and confused. A 
great crimson wave of indignation cast its signal to 
her forehead. 

“If you will be kind enough to conduct the young 
woman to the study, Harold, Mr. Willoughby will see 
her there. You certainly have intruded.” 

She spoke with dignity, sweeping Harold with a 
keenly reproachful glance. 

For a moment the women confronted each other, my 
wedded ‘wife and my bride. The gray and black eyes 
met with a flash, and in the lightning of those glances 
I stood in silence. Then I heard Janita say slowly, 
struggling to make her English very clear: 

“ John, tell her who I am. I love you. I cannot 
keep my promise, because I did not then know my 
love. Now, I love you, better than. you love all else 
in this world.” 

I still stood gazing in a dull way at her beautiful 
pleading face. I fancied I saw the pearls I Had given 
her, gleaming under her black dress. I heard those 
voices, grown louder now, murmuring in a tumult 
of exaltation. Surely they must all hear them. 

Susy’s voice came to me from a long distance. 

“ John, my own love ! Speak, tell me what this 
means.” 

6 


82 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ John ! ” But Janita checked my brother. 

“ I will tell you,” she said slowly. ” I see I love a 
coward, but oh ! how I love him you can never know. 
He has saved me from misery, from the sin of hate. 
I am his wife ! ” 

“It is false! John, speak, tell me it is false!” 
Harold’s voice rose like a call for help as he strode 
toward me, but Janita, her beautiful face full of 
appeal, triumph, and love, cried: 

“ It is true — I am his wife before God, and before 
God I will swear it.” 

Susy stood for a moment like marble, then swayed 
and fell down at my feet, the lovely face set as in 
death. I bent over her in an agony of fear, crying out 
that she was dead, while the voices shrieked aloud 
until I heard again and again those words, “ Per- 
jured, Dishonored, Forsworn.” 

“ John ! ” once more Harold cried imploringly. 
“ Deny this ; tell me this woman lies ! ” 

“ No, no ! — I speak the truth as I live ! Oh, do not 
cast me off. It is my only chance of escape. Even 
the Mother of Jesus forsakes me. Oh ! that I might 
lie as that girl lies, loving him, but never to wake 
again ! ” 

As Janita’s voice fell upon my ear in these words, it 
seemed to mingle strangely with the jangle of those 
other words that had all day long assailed my con- 
fused brain. 

I sprang toward her; I felt my hand press against 
her white throat, I saw her face grow ashen, her eyes 


Janita’s Dower. 


83 

aghast ; then I was whirled through space, and all 
grew dark and stifling until I felt something cold 
Jstrike my face, and I knew I was lying face down- 
ward in the snow upon the street. 

A long pause, during which only the darkness and 
cold seemed to haunt me, and then I heard voices 
far away. 

“ Move him this way. Do you feel his heart? ” 
The voice was full of misery. “ For God’s sake, lift 
his head. Oh ! what have I done ? It cannot be that 
I have killed my brother ! ” 

Then I heard no more. The gates of eternal dark- 
ness seemed to open, and I fell through endless space. 


84 


Janita's Dower. 


CHAPTER VI. 

“ Thou tuinest mine eyes into my veiy soul ; 

And there I see such black and grained spots, 

As will not leave theii tinct.” 

— Hamlet. 

When I next roused to consciousness, I was lying- 
in my bed in my own lodgings, and the sun was shin- 
ing dimly through the drawn curtains. At first I 
thought that all the occurrences of the night before 
were portions of a hideous nightmare. I had but spent 
a night in dreams since I had first gone to the house 
in Flatbush with my brother and Mr. Kennedy, and 
this was the awakening. I lifted my hand, and was 
surprised to find how heavy it seemed. I stirred un- 
easily, and moved my head on the pillow. A fierce 
pain shot across my temples, and I moaned a little. 
But I had learned enough from that slight effort to 
convince me how sternly real were all the incidents 
of the last scene my wandering senses sought to 
grasp. There across the room, her head bowed wear- 
ily on her arms, sat the girl I had married in the 
maddest mood and moment of my life. A dark shawl 
lay on a chair near her. My own watch ticked on the 
table near her, where it lay between two bottles of 


Janita’s Dower. 


85 

medicine. As the moan escaped me, another figure 
rose, and, coming to the bedside, bent over me. Hag- 
gard and wan, the face restored the present with a 
bitter rush of recollection. It was my brother. One 
glance into his eyes, and I knew the depth of my 
shame, and felt the misery that was wounding his 
heart. I turned my face away and buried it from 
sight in the pillow. 

“ You know me, John? ” he said, tremulously. 

“ Yes,” I replied, and my voice sounded very weak. 
“ How long have I been here ? and — like this ? ” 

“ Only two days. I have been in an agony of doubt. 
Can you forgive me, John? I — I — have nearly killed 
you.” , 

“ I wish you had,” I muttered. “ Leave me now, to 
my disgrace.” 

He turned away at my words, and motioned to 
Janita. She came forward with the medicine, but 
Harold took it from her, and she returned to her 
former attitude, while Harold gave me the draught. I 
drank obediently, but I kept my eyes fixed on his face. 
Relief was fast giving away to a settled sternness, that 
seemed to make him years older. 

“John, can you follow me? I will speak clearly.” 

“ I am listening. I am not sick. I cannot under- 
stand what has made me thus,” I replied. 

“ I was guilty of the blow that has led to fever 
and delirium. I might have been a murderer, save for 
this girl. You must remember what caused my 
anger.” 


86 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ Susy ” I began. 

“ Hush ! no mention of her,” he interposed, his eyes 
glowing. “ But a moment ago you bade me leave you 
to your shame. You must feel, after all that has oc- 
curred, that I can no longer call you brother, nor feel 
for you the esteem and love of former years. All you 
can henceforth do is, by an honest life, to outlive the 
crying dishonor, the blot upon our hitherto unspotted 
name. How you can do this, burdened by the con- 
temptible weakness your conduct involves, I know 
not. But we cannot meet as of old. Henceforth, I 
have no brother.” 

Every word fell like a blow on my burning heart. 
I saw how keen was his suffering as he uttered this 
knell to all my youthful hope and affection. Oh! 
Harold, in your clean shining manhood was there no 
pity for the soul writhing beneath those words, an 
outcast through a self-convicting deed? 

I lifted myself with an effort to my elbow, and 
gazed upon him, then sank quietly back. But our eyes 
met in that brief, quick gaze, and I read no mercy, no 
hope in his glance. I had wounded the one dearer to 
him than I could ever be ; transgressed every bond of 
faith and honor. Would to God his blow had sent my 
soul shuddering into the Hereafter. Better meet my 
God, sin-stained, than live to bear the scorching light 
of eyes that once looked love into mine. 

He spoke in a low tone to Janita, and I saw her 
follow him to the door. Then I raised myself once 
more, and strove to speak. 


Janita’s Dower. 


87 

“ Harold,” .1 called, but only in a hoarse whisper. 
“ My brother, my darling Harold ! ” 

No, no! Never again was he to hear the voice he 
was wont to welcome gladly. He was gone, and with 
a groaning sob I once more lost consciousness. 

When I remembered anything again, it was mid- 
night. A physician was just departing. Janita had 
moved to the bedside. I roused to feel her hand on 
my pulse. I asked for my brother, and she told me 
he had gone. Her tone was very gentle, almost sooth- 
ing. 1 closed my eyes and feigned sleep, and saw 
that she, overcome by fatigue, really dropped asleep in 
her chair, her hand close to mine that any movement 
on my part might awaken her. But I did not move. 
I lay thinking, and what my thoughts were that 
terrible night, no man may know. I have known 
sorrow and anxiety, but God has been kind, in that I 
have never lived through such a night since. I was 
not hardened in sin. I had been led to this very act 
through some of the noblest aspirations in my nature, 
I had paid the heavy price of sin for the good gifts 
I longed to possess. I had all but added crime to my 
catalogue of evils, when the means of my temptation 
had saved me. This strange waif of whom I knew 
nothing; this half-woman, half-child who had pre- 
sented every means to work out the evil in my grasping 
desires, rescued me, at the last. And henceforth I 
must call her wife. How I loathed the thought. To 
be forever reminded of the sinful folly, and have cling- 
ing to my life the hateful parasite of my temptation. 


88 


Janita’s Dower. 


Yet had she not, even in that hour, when armed with 
a poignant weapon of revenge, refrained from reveal- 
ing all my dishonor? No word had passed her lips, of 
the avarice that led to my accepting from her the 
treasure. She had only put forth her lawful claim 
and pleaded her love for me. 

Toward morning I fell into a heavy sleep, and on 
rousing new life seemed to have entered into me. I 
rose, dressed myself, and went to the office. I felt 
very weak, but my head was clear, and I worked hard 
all day. No one questioned me at the office. A few 
of the clerks spoke of my marriage, but none of them 
knew whom I intended to wed, as I had never had 
many intimates, although I was a favorite in jour- 
nalistic circles. Mr. Kennedy came to me in a few 
days. I saw at a glance that he knew much that had 
passed. He was distressed and openly lamented his 
part in taking me to Flatbush, and my infatuation with 
the girl. 

I replied vaguely to his heart-broken questions. I 
would have been sullen under rebuke, but his genuine 
grief, full of fatherly affection, wrung my heart, and I 
only strove to acquaint him as little as possible with 
the detail of my dishonorable conduct. But I did not 
strive to exonerate myself. He told me that Susy was 
lying dangerously ill. I uttered no word of surprise 
or sorrow. Then he left me, promising to come on the 
morrow, and to bring me news of the sufferer. That 
night I spent pacing back and forth near the Sidney 
dwelling; and night after night found me there. I 


Janita’s Dower. 


89 

would waylay the physician from his last visit at 
night, arnl again after his earliest call in the morning. 
Then numb with cold, and heavy with grief, I would 
snatch a few of the morning hours for sleep before I 
went to the office. 

The physician knew me, and kept my secret, divin- 
ing that I carried a heavier, burden of suffering than 
that innocent victim whom he was guiding away from 
the shadow of death. He finally told me she would 
live. Mr. Kennedy came also full of gladness, to com- 
municate the same tidings. He, dear old man, was 
the only link remaining to me with the world that 
once was mine. To him do I owe the grasp of a 
kindly hand, in the darkest hour of my life. All honor 
to the faith then, be it spiritualism or any other, that 
so keeps to the letter of Christ’s teaching, that even a 
sinner may not perish for lack of the hand of fellow- 
ship. Oh, you, who are working among men, to con- 
vert and save; to bring about confession and convic- 
tion of sin ; remember how much one good, true grasp 
of sincere friendliness will do, to save those whose 
feet stand in dangerous places. It is personal love and 
manliness that will win us, and Christ knew it before 
He trod the earth. 

I plodded on in my hard way, and if I did not 
abandon Janita I certainly pursued a cruel and re- 
morseless course with the. girl. We lived in these 
small lodgings of mine; she always quietly unobtru- 
sive, making the rooms neat and pursuing her small 
domestic duties faithfully. I left in the morning and 


90 


Janita’s Dower. 


seldom returned until late at night. What the girl did 
with herself day after day, I knew not. I ‘gave her 
money when she asked for it, but she only took enough 
for our slender meals. I did not note that she looked 
thin and worn. I often wished that she might be gone 
on my return, but she was always there patient and 
quiet, under my moroseness, for although I grew to 
enjoy the order of my home, I never gave the least 
sign of content or gratitude. 

We seldom spoke to each other. In those days I 
even avoided looking at her. If my hand touched hers 
I shook it off. There was nothing that softened me 
towards her. 

Thus the season dragged along. I plunged into 
business with vigor, burying the haunting thought in 
other cares. My concentration reaped its reward. My 
second speculation rivaled my first. I became a silent 
partner in the ownership of the paper. My pen was 
engaged in many projects. I entered with zest into 
politics, and my services were sought in the campaign. 
But I shunned any personal publicity. I shrank from 
seeing my name in huge printed letters ; the name. for 
which my brother must blush. My work was only the 
outgrowth of my misery ; my prosperity seemed a 
mockery. I had never touched any of the treasure. It 
was deposited in the bank in a huge tin box, and I 
swore never to molest it. 

I never saw my brother. Brooklyn was not large, 
but it was large enough for mutual avoidance between 
brothers. 


Janita’s Dower. 


91 


During the summer I learned that my aunt was 
going abroad and would take Susy Sidney with her. 
Susy had never been very strong since her illness. 

I was among the crowd on the wharf when the 
steamer sailed, and saw her leaning on Harold’s arm, 
catching only one glimpse of the sweet, pale face with 
its aureola of golden hair. On my return to the lodg- 
ings that night I saw that Janita had been weeping 
violently, but I did not question her. Years afterward 
I learned that she was also on the wharf and had seen 
me there. 

At this time I had not an impulse to drown my 
shame in drink. I cannot remember of ever drinking 
even to exhilaration, although this was at a time when 
every one used liquor freely. I only remember one 
desire that waged strong under my dogged morose- 
ness. I wished to commit no other sin, and I felt 
remorse for all that I had done. 

I was not penitent, but the effort to keep clean and 
clear from further evil showed the seeds of a true 
penitence which would follow later. But with Janita I 
was relentless. She was a portion of the evil clinging 
to my soul ; the shadow on my threshold. Mr. Ken- 
nedy, always kind, urged me, as winter once more 
drew near, to live as I should, since I had ample means. 
He referred to Janita as not being permitted to suffer. 
Himself a devoted husband, he could not imagine my 
relations with the neglected, unloved woman I called 
my wife. I replied we were very comfortable. That 
Janita was doing very well. I think he felt the surly 


Janita’s Dower. 


92 

reception of his advice, for I saw but little of him after 
that during the winter. 

I was now feted and lionized by the press, and 
courted by quite a coterie of fashionable people in 
Brooklyn and New York. But there was no danger 
of it turning my head, for when I came home I always 
found that the pale face of Janita was sufficient to 
keep my pride in check. If she had been a loathsome 
hag I could not have felt the burden of her presence 
more. She seemed to personify the memory of my 
transgression, and together with my surly remorse, to 
rend the vital portions of life’s content. 

One evening early in the spring, it was in April I 
think, for the buds were swelling and a balmy softness 
lingered in the air, I was unusually early in returning 
to my lodgings. An engagement had been postponed, 
and for the first time for months I found myself with 
an evening free of the bondage that had become my 
only existence. I was reluctant to return to the lodg- 
ings, and walked slowly. That evening, when we had 
finished our simple evening meal, Janita made to me 
her first protest since our unhappy marriage. She 
came to my side and begged me to remain with her; 
to forego any engagement I might have made. She 
spoke eagerly and with much agitation. I shook oflF 
her detaining hand and coldly replied that her request 
was ill-timed, that business was imperative, even if I 
desired to bear her company. Whereat she left the 
room sobbing in a broken-hearted manner that hurt 
me, despite my endeavor to stifle the emotion. Now 


Janita’s Uower. 


93 

that I found myself unexpectedly free and able to 
comply with her request, I did not want to encounter 
her again so soon. Her white face and pitiful eyes 
haunted me, yet I feared she would think I had re- 
lented, and hence my return, and I would not have 
her think me' inconsistent. As I walked listlessly 
along, I began painfully to go over the last months of 
my life, and every moment my ire rose bitterly against 
Janita. 

Suddenly I found myself near the very church in 
which I was to have been married to Susy. I had 
never walked to my lodgings by this route since the 
nights I had watched under Susy’s window in unutter- 
able misery. The home of my cousin was but one 
street beyond. I had unconsciously followed the well- 
known way, to be brought face to face with still 
harsher memories. I was turning away with a curse 
for my folly, that all these months found me still the 
slave of a mood, when the sound of music from the 
church caught my ear. Children were singing Easter 
hymns, and I recalled many a former Easter-tide, for 
this was where I had been wont to sit with Susy, join- 
ing the hymns joyously. I had not been inside of a 
church for a year and a half, but the music touched me 
against my will, as Janita’s sobs had done. I turned 
and entered. The church was dark within all save the 
organ loft, where the children gathered to practice the 
Easter hymns. 

How well I remembered the quaint old church. 
From boyhood I had loved its rough walls and curious 


94 


Janita’s Dower. 


little windows — the rude carving on the reading desk, 
the dim head of the Christ over the altar. Two emo- 
tions were contending within me. One that shook me 
with boyish, unshed tears ; the other the iron grasp of 
my evil self, that scoffed at my weak agitation. 

Three pews in advance of where I was sitting to- 
night I had sat Sunday after Sunday with Susy, think- 
ing more of her than of the sermon, which was apt to 
be prosy. 

Would to God I could kneel now as I had done then. 
I am sure God forgave me, when I knelt so that my 
head might lean nearer hers ; forgave me, that human 
love brought me nearer his Divine love. But stop — 
Did this love of mine really draw me nearer to my 
Creator ? Bah ! cried the mocking spirit of my evil 
nature, what is God, that He permits such evils? A 
myth, a childish fetich, set up to lead us into supersti- 
tion and folly. 

“ Christ is risen from the dead. 

And lives again for us ; 

Glory to His Holy name. 

Who died and suffered thus.” 

Thus sang the children cheerily. I rose to depart, 
when I paused, my attention was arrested by the 
entrance of a young man coming into the church as 
quietly as I had come. 

Some one evidently was expecting the newcomer, 
for she left the group of children and came down the 
aisle to meet him. Even in the gloom of the dimly- 


Jantia’s Dower. 


95 

lighted church I saw the lovely face of my former 
sweetheart, and I knew that the tall form entering was 
my brother, 

I sat down once more, my heart sinking, then 
throbbing wildly with passion. 

She greeted him kindly, and he held her hand a 
minute lingeringly, 

“ The children are not quite ready to go yet, Harold ; 
can you wait ? ” 

Oh, the quality of that voice! Yet it lacked the soft 
mellow cadence of Janita’s tones. Was it old memories 
that made it so alluring? 

“ I am in no hurry ; but sit down here beside me. 
Let us listen together,” 

They sat just two pews ahead of me, Harold 
glanced toward me inquiringly, and I heard Susy say : 

“ Some one waiting like ourselves, to take the chil- 
dren home,” 

She looked blooming and bright as of yore. Invol- 
untarily I compared her face with Janita’s wan and 
worn visage, and the fiend contended more wildly than 
ever within my bosom, 

I knelt and bowed my head on the next pew back of 
them, that I might be near enough to hear what they 
said, 

Harold spoke in a low tone with a few glances my 
way. But I could hear all she said, 

“ Harold,” she began after a pause, “ I am going to 
make a request of you, to-night, that I feel will try you 
sorely. Dare I put you to the test ? ” 


96 . 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ I would hardly refuse you, Susy,” he replied. 

“Yet I have feared to ask it, all these weeks. But 
here to-night where we have all knelt as children, I 
may, I must have courage.” 

She faltered with almost a sob, and Harold laid his 
hand over hers to check her. 

“No, I must go on,” she continued. “ I want to 
speak about — John.” 

My name ! in the tone of one long since dead. Oh ! 
that I lay dead, only a lovable memory to shake her 
with emotion. Better dead in Christ, loving her, than 
to have perished thus. I saw my brother give a quiv- 
ering start. 

“ I beg you will spare me all mention of that name, 
Susy,” he said, pleadingly. 

“ Harold, this is wrong. He is your brother. Many 
a time have I knelt between you in this church, and 
scarce knew which cousin was dearer to me. And shall 
I — oh ! Harold, can I live to feel I have estranged 
you ? ” 

“ Susy, it is morbid folly on your part to talk thus. 
John’s conduct estranged him from us all. Dishonored 
and disgraced, I cannot put my pride aside and for- 
get. It is beyond the power of man to forgive such an 
injury, to you, even could I bring myself ” 

“ Stop a moment, Harold, and reflect. If / can for- 
give him, what right have you to such a memory? I 
have thought it out clearly, through days of sadness, 
and slow torturing nights, I could not have made him 
happy. I am so weak, so childish and foolish. I dare 


Janita’s Dower. 


97 


not think how he did that thing. The awful pain of 
having so deceived those who loved him must have 
made his life a weary burden, full of sorrow. I dare 
not dwell on his motive. But, Harold, there is no anger 
in my heart for him. Only pity, and a longing to 
restore once more the relations between you, you who 
have always been to him his light of life. Harold, will 
you not go to him ? ” 

My brother spoke with his head bowed in his hands. 
I failed to hear his reply. I was trembling lest one 
word of hers should escape me. Anger had been swept 
away at her first word. As weak as a child, I still 
knelt, listening. 

“ No, no, Harold,” she said in reply to his mur- 
mured words. “You are mistaking ugly resentment and 
pride for my sake, as justifiable repugnance for his con- 
duct. You see the world. I, dear friend, can only see 
the love that is necessary to save him from sadder 
measures. Ah ! Harold, where is he to-night ? Must 
you answer like Cain, ‘ Am I my brother’s keeper ’ ? ” 
, Harold made a gesture of protest, but when he spoke 
I heard each word. 

“ Say no more, Susy. In my heart I am already 
branded with murder. I could have killed him that 
fatal night. We are neither of us worthy your pure, 
high regard. I will do as you say. Seek him out, and 
call him once more my brother. But henceforth I must 
be an exile from your presence.” 

“ Oh, no,” she protested in quick anxiety. 

“ How can you bear to have me near you ? How can 

7 


Janita’s Dower. 


98 

I endure the thought of coming to you from the man 
who has heaped insult upon one of the fairest of God’s 
creatures ? Ah, no — no ” 

“ Harold ! remember where you are,” she said gently, 
as his chest heaved and his voice grew intense. “ Long 
ago I forgave John, and I believe to-night your resent- 
ment is more for the sin than the sinner. Have we 
never been tempted, Harold ? I for one know how hard 
I prayed to die at one time, and to hate all that with- 
held me from him. But to-night I can say truthfully 
that forgiven and forgotten is all the error, as I hope 
to be forgiven. Will you not go to John and say it 
also? ” 

She bent forward, laying her small, gloved hand on 
his shoulder. He did not move for several moments, 
then I saw him press the hand in his, and she rose and 
went forward toward the chancel. With a very slight 
effort I could have touched him with my hand. My 
brother! the dearest and only blood tie on earth for 
m.e. Yet I could not move. I knelt dumb, save that 
from my heart a prayer for courage, for help was in- 
voluntarily going forth, while through and through my 
brain rushed the words of that sweet angel, whose gar- 
ment I was not fit to touch. 

“ Forgiven all the error, as I hope to be forgiven.” 

If the angels rejoice over a penitent sinner, what 
must be the pure exaltation of angels in the immortal 
victory that prompted these words. I did not raise my 
head as the children trooped out of the church. I knew 
Harold left the pew, and stood witH Susy as she gath- 


Janita’s Dower. 


99 


ered her brothers and other children around her. Then 
some one touched my shoulder. It was the sexton. I 
rose and followed the others from the church, carefully 
avoiding recognition. 


100 


Janita’s Dower. 


CHAPTER VII. 

“ Never by lapse of time * 

The soul defaced by crime, 

Into its former self returns again ; 

For every guilty deed 

Holds in itself the seed 

Of retribution and undying pain.” 

— Longfellow. 

I WALKED for a long time, I know not whither. I 
put my hand to my face and found tears there. A 
tempest seemed to have swept over me, and to have left 
me strangely at peace. I finally thought of Janita, and 
turned my steps toward the lodgings. 

“ Poor girl,” I said and seemed to hear Susy’s voice 
in the tone. My heart was almost, light as I reached 
my rooms. 

I entered the small living room — it was empty. 
My desk stood open as I was wont to leave it, but all 
was in perfect order. The lounge upon which I spent 
my restless nights was prepared for my return, and 
a glass of milk placed on the desk. I passed on to 
the little kitchen, where we took our meals. The 
kitchen clock ticked industriously, and the order be- 
spoke Janita’s care, but she was not there. I then re- 
turned to the first room, and as I crossed to enter the 
bedroom I saw on the desk a folded paper. I caught 
it up, and read in a faint scrawling hand ; 


Janita’s Dower. 


lOI 


“ I am going away. I cannot live any longer. You 
will be free, but no one can love you better than 
Janita.” 

For a moment I was stunned. Like an awful vision 
rose the memory that I had almost prayed that this 
might happen. I pushed the bedroom door open, call- 
ing her name, in the vain hope that she might still be 
in the room. Then I started back, for she was there. 

^lotionless and lovely, white as marble, she was lying 
in a large armchair. For a moment I thought her 
dead. I went to her, in fear. A small fire burned on 
the hearth, for it was still cool in the evening, and in 
the flickering light I saw that she only slept, I put my 
hand upon her. Her clothing felt cold and damp, as 
if she had been in the night air. Bending lower I 
could see that her bosom rose and fell evenly, and while 
her face was tear-stained, she was sleeping peacefully 
as a child. Her hands were warm. She breathed 
easily. She had taken no narcotic. Her courage had 
failed her, at the last moment, thank God. I stood 
gazing upon her. Strange how sleep softens and 
changes the face, like the twin brother Death. 

There was nothing in the lovely face before me that 
should have so roused the demon in me, at the glance 
of her eye, during the months of our miserable life to- 
gether. The long dark lashes swept the white cheek, 
the curve of the lips was sad still with the thought that 
had caused her to sob herself to sleep. She held some- 
thing crushed against her face, with the hand beneath 


102 


Janita’s Dower. 


her cheek. It was an old soft felt hat of mine which 
I had worn on my first visit to Flatbush. 

Was it possible she had worn it on the street? I 
glanced hastily over her garments. She wore the same 
old black dress I had always seen her wear. It was 
neatly mended in many places, but it was threadbare 
and shabby. One small foot appeared below the gown ; 
the shoe was split, and I saw it was soaked through 
with water. 

I felt the blood rush to my forehead. This was my 
wife. This pitiful, grief-stricken creature. A very 
child she seemed to me as she lay thus before me, every 
feature of her face and the very droop of her gar- 
ment crying shame on me. 

I bent down, laying one hand on her forehead gently 
She did not stir. 

“Janita!” I called softly, passing my hand over 
her dark hair. 

She opened her eyes with a sobbing sigh, and, seeing 
me, started up wildly. 

“Where am I? Oh! John — you here?” 

Her tone, from bewilderment, to sudden shrinking 
timidity, was like a stab to my now sensitive heart. 

“What does this mean, Janita?” I asked, laying a 
hand on her arm, as I held the paper toward her. She 
bit her lip at sight of it, and turned away. 

“ I was a coward,” she whispered, hanging her head. 
“ I went to — the water — ^but — it was so dark and cold. 
Oh I I begged you to stay with me to-night. I prayed 
that you might heed, but you left me. We cannot live 


Janita’s Dower. 


103 


this way — one of us must go away. I would rather die 
than leave you. But the water — oh! I could not — I 
could not ! ” She shuddered and sobbed aloud. 

In consternation I caught her in my arms, and saw 
then that she had stood in water almost to her knees. 
Her dress was very wet. 

“ Janita, my poor child I have I been so cruel as this ? 
Try and stop sobbing and hear me. There is no reason 
for either of us going away. Will you not try and for- 
give the past, as I hope to mend the future ? ” 

My words came awkwardly. I felt I was speaking 
from the letter of my resolution, not yet in the good 
spirit of the promise. 

She looked at me wonderingly. 

“ Have you seen him ? ” she asked. 

“ Whom ? ” I stammered in surprise. 

“ I did not dream it ? ” she said, passing her hand 
over her forehead. “ No, no, it is so,” and she snatched 
from the floor as she spoke a blue paper. It had evi- 
dently been about a small phial. 

“ See, it was chloroform. Enough to kill me,” she 
said softly. “ When I had not courage to lie down in 
the water I thought of this and got it. I said I had the 
toothache and needed it. I came home here, and never 
meant to wake again.” 

‘‘ Janita!” 

“ But he came — your brother.” 

“ My brother ? How long ago ? ” 

“ I cannot tell. The night is so long,” she returned. 
“ He wanted to see you, and he took the bottle from me 


104 


Janita’s Dower. 


and threw it away. He talked to me kindly, oh ! so 
kindly. I was almost happy when he left. But, oh! 
you would not be sorry.” She ended with another sob- 
bing moan, twisting herself out of my arms. 

A thrill of despair seized me. I could not tell her 
I loved her. 

“ Janita,” I began slowly. “ It is true we cannot live 
as we have been living, but the change cannot be sep- 
aration. We are man and wife and must remain thus. 
We both drag the chain of our mutual dishonor. You 
sinned to save yourself from an evil the nature of which 
I know not — I, for the gain of wealth and happiness. I 
have been a brute to you, but bear with me a little 
longer, and I will strive to wipe out the past by a better 
course. To-night I — have changed — I have been 

led ” I faltered. Could I bring myself to tell her 

what had passed ? Ay ! it was her due, and I recounted 
all that had occurred in the church. I must have pic- 
tured the scene graphically, for her face changed with 
every word, and when I had finished a strange glow 
seemed to light her dark eyes. 

“ Ah I the angel, she is so pure, so good — ^but she 

could not love as I do ! She never ” 

“ Be silent,” I interposed harshly, “ nor dare to com- 
pare one emotion of our sinful natures with that lovely 
woman. We are unworthy to breathe the same air with 

her. You, who tempted me ” 

Janita checked me suddenly, her eyes flaming: 

“ May Heaven be my judge,” she said clearly, “ ’tis 
true I tempted you, but must I also bear the penalty of 


Janita’s Dower. 


105 

your weakness ? Had you not a man’s strength to resist 
my plea? Had you loved me, the sin would not be so 
great. But you yielded, knowing the evil you wrought 
another. At least I love you, and am praying day by 
day to die, that I may no longer torment you.” 

“ Janita, you are right,” I said slowly. ” I have been 
a cringing coward. I can only deserve your reproaches. 
But oh ! help me, girl, help me, and I will do all a man 
can or may to blot out the past.” 

She put her hand in mine at once. 

“ I will help you, John. I will try, oh ! how hard I 
will try, not to be in your way.” 

Her tears fell on our clasped hands, and I drew her 
to my bosom, and wiped the glittering drops from her 
eyes. And as I held her thus I realized what a child she 
was. Just sixteen as she told me later, Susan Sidney’s 
junior by three years. 

We talked late into the night, and I heard with a 
shudder, the history of Janita’s life. She remembered 
no mother. She was born in Holland, but was soon 
taken to France by her father, whom she feared great- 
ly. She had had three brothers. The father had taken 
the children from the mother, Janita learned later, be- 
cause he was tired of her. Janita remembered a woman 
who beat her, and then she was put in a convent, where 
she remained six years. She was educated there, which 
accounted for her pure French and gentle manners. 
When twelve years of age, her father brought her from 
the convent, and with one brother took passage for 
America on a small sailing vessel, 


ib6 


Janita’s Dower. 


They went to New Orleans, and then Janita’s misery 
began. Her father’s rough ways and strange habits dis- 
tressed her. Her brothers ridiculed her, and forced 
strange acquaintances upon her. They finally came to 
New York, and then Janita learned for the first time 
that her father and brothers were professional counter- 
feiters. She was thrown into the company of thieves, 
and lived among people she loathed. She longed for 
the convent and the gentle sisters. She even made a 
vow to the Virgin to become a nun, if she would protect 
her. 

" But I feared to wait,” she added, with great naivete, 
“ the good Marie was so slow, and when you came I 
thought only of marriage. For my brother wanted to 
marry me to one of his friends — the thought was 
horror! It was not right to go with you unless you 
married me, and then — I loved you ! ” 

The treasure she said was hers. Her brother had 
said it was her dower, if she married his friend. I 
dared not ask whence came the treasure. I doubted 
her knowledge. She seemed content that it was hers, 
and so fully satisfied of this that she entirely over- 
looked the fact that she in turn had stolen it for me. 
For her brother would not have hesitated to have killed 
me had he known her intention regarding the money. 
The money had been hidden there by her father when 
they came to the old house as a refuge. Its reputation 
of being haunted made it for some time a safe lurking 
place. During their sojourn there, Janita had ventured 
to see the priest of the church nearest Flathushi Aftef 


Janita’s Dower. 


107 

a time her father and brother returned one night, and 
told her that they must leave the city at once, and that 
she must follow that night as the wife of Giraldo, the 
Italian. Janita fled from the old house as soon as her 
father and brother departed, and searched until she 
found me. She walked the streets all that night and 
part of the next day. When she finally met Harold, 
she was faint and weary. She joyfully asked him of 
his brother. She did not kno^^v when she entered with 
him, that it was not my house. When she saw Susy, 
jealousy awoke and she no longer regarded her oath to 
me. 

This was the story of her life up to the present. This 
was my wife, this strange child-woman, innocent in 
such strange inexplicable ways, yet full of a shrewdness 
that made one at times doubt her innocence. Was this 
owing to her contact with wickedness? Was the 
shadow upon her, yet not the wound that sears the soul ? 
I could scarcely tell. Her sense of right and wrong 
seemed blunted. The enormity of her father’s conduct 
seemed to weigh little beside the cruelty of his treat- 
ment of her. She was only a woman in her passionate 
love for me. 

I sat silent when she had finished her narration. She 
watched me wistfully. I think she knew I suffered. 
Pride, fame, all bowed before the shame of this revela- 
tion. One after the other, I saw my ambitious dreams 
vanish, and felt the darkness of my future ; my wife was 
to be a mill-stone about my neck. Dragging me back 
to humbleness, nay, to utter humiliation. 


io8 


Janita’s Dower. 


Janita was sitting close at my knee. She laid her 
face upon my hand, pressing her lips to it softly. I 
did not move, and presently I felt that she had fallen 
asleep. 

For a while I watched the lovely face, and pictured 
the charm of her beauty to that scoundrel, to whom her 
brother would have married her. I wondered if his lips 
had ever touched those curved drooping lips of hers ; if 
he had striven to woo her as men woo — and — I grew hot 
with anger. Bah ! this creature my wife, this waif from 
a world unknown to me ! I bent and lifted her lightly 
in my arms and laid her upon the bed. She opened her 
eyes and drowsily murmured my name in tones of love, 
then slept again like a worn-out child. And thus I left 
her, to pace the room and fight the battle alone. Alone, 
with my God, to face the bitter issue ; to expect no sym- 
pathy or aid from living soul. 


Janita’s Dower. 


109 


CHAPTER VIIL 

“ Try what repentance can ; 

What can it not? ” 

— Hamlet. 

The following day I went to my brother. I came 
away from his studio, full of courage and purpose. 
Every resolution of the night before was strengthened. 
Nor did I falter in at once carrying out my new plan 
of life. 

Harold heard all I had to say with as much pain as 
it caused me in the relation. I did not strive to divulge 
the motive that led to the marriage with Janita. Some- 
thing withheld this confession. I felt that in honor to 
the woman I married, I must not reveal the sordid, 
humiliating course I had pursued in wedding her. 
More than once, in my desire to lean on other strength 
than my own, I was wild to lay bare my very soul to 
my brother. But the remembrance of the real love the 
child bore me withheld me. God knows it was not 
through any desire to shield the depth of my own 
duplicity. 

In my brother’s presence I wrote a few words of grat- 
itude to Susy for her goodness in pronouncing those 
words, that at least released me from the bondage of 
despondency and gave me hope to try and expiate my 


no 


Janita’s Dower. 


former conduct. I would faithfully strive to be a better 
man, and upheld by the thought of her forgiveness I 
would seek that of my Heavenly Father. 

As I finished the letter I said to Harold that I ex- 
pected no recognition from my family; that I did not 
desire it. My wife was not my social equal, nor could I 
ever expect more than to be forgiven for my mesal- 
liance. I could not recognize the possibility of any of 
the proud Willoughby blood receiving my little waif, 
with her doubtful pedigree. Harold sighed, but 
acquiesced in all I said. 

“ But I may come to see my brother,” he said, clasp- 
ing my hand. “ Whatever else we may say, John, your 
wife is very beautiful. She will develop into a rare 
woman. I am not sure but that many will envy you 

yet.” 

“ I doubt it,” J replied, wincing, but I had carefully 
refrained from relating to him the story Janita had 
confided to me, regarding her father and brothers. I 
saw his artist’s eye was gratified by her beauty, and a 
pride of possession, that quality that is inherent in every 
man, sprang into life at his words. Next to a man’s 
passion for the woman of his choice, stands this pride of 
possession. I am not sure to-day that it is not para- 
mount in many men to the divine fire that finds a 
woman fair only because he loves her. Beauty calls it 
forth, and many a beautiful woman has found the 
hearthstone cold and bare of all save this pride, that 
will not outlive the shadows wrought by sickness and 
care. 


Janita's Dower. 


Ill 


On leaving my brother, I set about at once securing a 
small house in a quiet street, where I could arrange a 
flower-garden if I wished during the summer. 

Brooklyn, in 1830, was but a small town, as yet de- 
pendent on New York for her chief support. It would 
not surprise me if the next two or three generations suc- 
ceed in placing a bridge across the river, and transport- 
ing facilities become much greater in this fashion. In 
the days of which I write I had little trouble in finding 
a small house, with pretty lawn and a few trees about 
it, at a moderate rent. In a few days it was cozily fur- 
nished. I had said nothing to Janita regarding a 
change. I spoke to her almost as little as formerly, but 
when I did so, it was with great gentleness. 

My greatest difficulty was Janita’s wardrobe. I had 
no idea what money she would need to procure suitable 
apparel, or how she could go about it herself, clad as 
she was. My embarrassment was extreme, as I had no 
love to prompt in me the tender intuition that aids al- 
most every husband in such a dilemma. 

One day, in great desperation, I went boldly into a 
shoe store and asked to look at ladies’ shoes. The house 
was completely furnished, and I wished to take Janita 
that evening to see it. The clerk smilingly inquired 
what number of shoes I wished to buy. I flushed and 
stammered : 

“ No matter — oh, that is a number five, I presume.” 

He smiled again. 

“ Buying them for your mother? If so, and she is 
stout, a broad last will be ” 


II2 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ No, I want them for my wife.” 

“ Ah ! is she large ? ” 

“ Yes — ” I replied reluctantly — “ not stout. Any 
pair will do, I guess.” 

“ Not if she is like most ladies, sir. They mostly 
wants to put a number five foot in a number two shoe ; 
now how’s this ? ” 

As he spoke he held up what seemed to me an ab- 
surdly small shoe. 

“ Too small,” I said promptly, and after much 
thoughtful selection found a pair I thought might be 
right in point of size. 

I then ventured to buy a shawl, and was even so bold 
as to enter a milliner’s shop to look for a bonnet or hat. 
Here I was so overwhelmed with attention, spiced with 
that never failing womanly attribute, curiosity, that I 
beat a retreat, leaving the hat entirely to the milliner’s 
taste, and she promised me, confidently, that I should 
not lose by putting my trust in her. 

I found Janita busy over the supper when I came in 
with my purchases. She was singing softly, and as I 
entered she smiled a welcome, that never failed to touch 
me. It was so full of a devotion I so illy repaid. 

“ Janita,” I began, awkwardly, “ I have tried to get 
you a few things, I am sure you need. Some shoes — 
and — a shawl.” 

She came toward me with an odd expression that 
made me think she was going to weep. I busied myself 
over opening the bundle. As the shoes appeared she 
suddenly thrust out her foot, and instead of tears, after 


Janita’s Dower. 


113 

one comical glance at me, she burst into a peal of silvery 
laughter that rang like music through the rooms. It 
gave me a curious thrill to hear it. 

“ Did you really think my foot was like that ? ” she 
cried. “ Look, look at it ! ” 

She pointed to her foot, that even in its old worn 
shoe was slender and dainty, and I saw my purchase 
was very much too large. 

“ Ah ! you must go to the store yourself, Janita,” I 
said, trying to join her mirth at my expense, and indeed 
her childish relish of the joke relieved me of the awk- 
ward situation. “ The other shoes looked so very small. 
You are a real Cinderella, and I am unfortunate in not 
finding the right shoe.” 

“ Yes, I had best get my own shoes. But what is 
Cinderella?” 

“ Only a little English fairy tale ; I will tell you some 
day, if you are good. And I got you a shawl also, 
Janita.” 

This she pronounced an excellent selection, and then 
begged for the story again. So while we ate supper T 
told her, and she listened eagerly. When I was through 
the narration, she said : 

“ I wish I could have worn the shoes, John. Because 
you — got them.” 

“ Oh, perhaps I can find an exact fit when I try 
again,” I returned. 

“ And I am your Cinderella any way, John. Am I 
not always here in the chimney corner ? ” Then she 
added after a pause : 


Janita’s Dower. 


1 14 

“ Were you very poor, John, when I offered you the 
money ? ” 

“ I am not poor now, Janita,” I replied evasively. 

“ Oh — of course not,” she returned, and I shrank so 
from the subject that I could not bring myself to tell 
her that her ill-fated dower remained untouched in the 
bank. 

“ But, John,” she continued, “ can I have a little 
money? Then indeed you shall not be ashamed of me.” 

“All I have is yours, Janita,” I replied. 

But if her merriment was great over the shoes, she 
was vastly more amused by the hat I had purchased. 
She laughed until tears stood in her bright eyes, and so 
contagious was her mirth, and so absurd the hat, that T 
laughed also, as I had not laughed for months. But she 
thanked me gratefully. 

“ You did it to please me. It was kind, and I shall 
not forget. I forget nothing.” 

Later in the evening I told her of the house, and we 
went to inspect it. Janita could not express her con- 
tent. She looked wistfully at me, and finally said : 

“ I am not a good girl. I did not keep my promise. 
You cannot love me. Yet you have patience and do so 
much. I cannot thank you, but I will try and obey you 
and make the home happy.” 

She always spoke slowly feeling her way, in the Eng- 
lish language. 

I replied in French: 

“ Let us not refer to this again, Janita. Whatever 
belongs to the past, let us bury with the past.” 


Janita’s Dower. 


115 

So we took possession of the little house, and Janita’s 
happiness brought the nearest approach to peace my 
troubled days had known. Her fingers fashioned many 
pretty garments for herself, and her exquisite embroid- 
ery appeared in numberless devices to decorate the 
house. Her taste seemed never at fault, and her quick 
tact carried her over many trials, trials that I look 
back upon and wonder how she withstood them and 
came forth victorious. She knew nothing of life as f 
had been accustomed to living, yet by patience she 
schooled herself to every detail. Her education had 
been of the order usual ‘in convents. She sang very 
well, and had been accustomed to singing in the 
chapel on festival days. She was quite devout in her 
adherence to the faith in which she had been reared, 
often quoting the IMother Superior of her convent, 
and more than often falling asleep with her rosary and 
crucifix pressed against her lips. I never questioned 
her, nor interfered with the faith that seemed to com- 
fort her. 

Once she came to me in some little trouble. 

“ I prayed the Virgin to help me, John, but I do not 
see how she can, it is so English ! ” 

■ “ And do you think the mother of Christ was 
French, Janita?” T asked, much amused. 

“ I cannot tell. But she helps me so little even 
though I pray in French ! ” 

After this I tried gently to tell her of God the 
Father, and she listened attentively ; still she repeated 


ii6 Janita’s Dower. 

her Aves, but confided to me later that she now prayed 
to both. 

She often perplexed me ; she was one moment all 
woman, at another a very child. But in one particular 
she ever put me to shame. No wish of mine fell un- 
heeded upon her ear. At a word of disapproval, she 
relinquished at once any desire of her own. 1 felt 
more and more every day my lack of response to her 
affection. It awoke no chord of harmony within me. 
Often it wearied me, and at such times I kept away 
from home, professing business engagements. 

At the close of the summer my brother, who had 
been abroad five months, returned, and came to call at 
our small establishment. I remember the occasion 
well, for I had for the first time in my married life 
brought a friend home to dine. 

He was a young man quite prominent afterwards as 
a journalist, and I was not a little anxious that he 
should be impressed by my domestic felicity, hie had 
himself frankly avowed a desire to see my wife. He 
said many of our comrades had told him I was very 
mysteriously married, having committed the act in 
haste, to repent at leisure. His cool assurance attained 
the end he had in view. I was nettled to think I had 
been discussed at the club, and I soon afterward in- 
vited him to dine with us. I said carelessly that we 
lived quietly, and that my wife was very young and 
inexperienced. 

“ I married a little French Mamzelle,” I said, smil- 
ing, “ and as she would quaintly use our English we 


Janita’s Dower. 


117 

‘live small/ But what has Dame Rumor said of us, 
Van ? ” 

“It is hardly worthy repetition, Willoughby, yet all 
the stories were rough on you. Since they are false, 
let us not dwell upon them.” 

The day was lovely. A cool soft breeze blowing 
fleecy sunset clouds over a blue sky. Janita, clad in 
a soft white gown, awaited us, looking a picture of 
loveliness. Roses played hide-and-seek in her cheeks 
as she rose to greet our guest, but a pretty dignity was 
expressed in her word and gesture, and I saw my 
friend’s surprise and pleasure, and knew what report 
he would make regarding my wife. The assurance 
awoke once more within me the pride of possession 
dear to a man’s soul. 

Janita had just given the signal for rising from 
the table, when the servant brought me a card. I 
sprang eagerly from the table. 

“ Janita, it is my brother Harold. Pardon me if I 
rush at once to greet him.” 

In a moment my hand was in his, and I explained 
A^’an Arsdell’s presence, just as he and Janita entered. 
If I was nervous over the meeting of Harold and my 
wife, it vanished when she gave him her hand, and he 
bent and bestowed a kiss on her lips. 

“ That is a brother’s prerogative,” he said, laugh- 
ing lightly, as she looked startled, “ especially since I 
have been away so long.” 

“ And one I should certainly claim promptly, were 
it in my jurisdiction,” said Van, gaily. 


ii8 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ But in my country, in France, we only kiss our 
husbands,” said Janita, a little gravely, 

“ And where did you live in France, may I ask? ” 

I saw Harold cast a quick, uneasy glance toward 
me, but Janita’s reply was very simple. 

“At the Convent St. Felice, twenty miles from 
Paris,” she said, her eyes meeting mine reassuringly. 

“ My experience in Paris was not so favorable for 
gleaning the customs of the country,” said Van, with 
a twinkle in his eye. “ And did you learn so much 
of connubial propriety in the convent, Mrs. Wil- 
loughby ? ” 

“ The girls will talk of sweethearts, even when the 
sisters forbid it. I was not more obedient than the 
others,” she returned gravely, and then turning to 
Harold, she asked him where he had spent the sum- 
mer. 

The conversation drifted to other matters, and Janita 
having occasion to withdraw. Van Arsdell broke forth 
enthusiastically. 

“ By Jove, Willoughby, I see through you now, you 
sly dog. Jealous of your lovely wife, eh? Come, own 
it at once. But don’t you know, man, she would make 
a tremendous sensation ? She will become the fashion 
of the hour, if you will only introduce her socially. 
She is superb, and with your influence and reputa- 
tion ” 

“ Pardon me, Van,” I said coldly, “ my wife does 
not become a part of my public reputation. Nor do I 
wish to use her as an advertisement sheet.” 


Janita’s Dower. 


119 

“ I see you are determined to keep her rare loveli- 
ness: hidden from view. But it is not right. Mr. Wil- 
loughby,” turning to Harold, “ you must see how 
wrong it is to permit such scandalous tales to circulate 
through the club. By Heaven, it is an insult to such 
a glorious creature to behave as if you were ashamed 
of her ! ” 

And with his peculiar frankness, he told us in plain 
terms the reports circulated about my marriage. Har- 
old twisted in his chair and looked as if the mere repe- 
tition insulted him. I felt my ire rising, but controlled 
myself, as I tried to feel Van Arsdell was telling all 
this, as far as he could see, for my own good. When 
he was through I thanked him briefly, and hoped he 
would hereafter contradict such reports. There was 
tacit rebuke in my tone, at his bad taste in speaking of 
such matters at my own table, and Van saw and 
accepted the reproof at once. 

Upon Janita’s return she sang for us, and then 
Harold joined his voice to hers, and Van and I listened 
with great pleasure, openly expressed on Van’s side. 

Harold lingered quite late, talking with me. We 
referred little to the past. He told me my wife was a 
constant delight for the eye to dwell upon. 

“ She is all I can desire,” I said stiffly. 

“ And you are happy, John? I see a change in your 
bearing, more serenity in your glance. Surely ” 

“ Harold, I am content, better content than when 
you saw me last. Happiness I laid aside with my 
youth and its follies.” 


120 Janita’s Dower. 

“ Nonsense, John. You are but five years my 
senior, and ” 

“ And you are happy, J presume ? ” 

His eyes fell before my glance. 

“ There is but one thing can make me so, John, and 
that will never happen,” he replied. 

“ Where — is she ? ” I asked slowly. 

“ In Italy with Aunt Milly. I came away. I could 
not stay longer.” 

“ I am sorry, Harold,” I said, brokenly, and we 
clasped hands and parted. 

After this it was impossible to lead our quiet life. 
Harold brought friends with him to the house; Van 
also introduced a few of his associates. In a short 
.. time Janita was enjoying a taste of popularity that 
would have served to turn an older head than hers. 
But she bore it all with delightful unconsciousness of 
the homage paid her beauty. She was very happy, 
and enjoyed each moment. But there was no shadow 
of coquetry in her pretty manner, and she referred to 
me in a way that would have been very flattering had 
I felt as a husband should toward the wife of his 
choice. 

I think I betrayed how closely I watched my wife 
to my brother, for he said to me one day : 

“ John, you may know more than I do of Jamta, 
but if you are not jealous you are unjust. She is the 
soul of purity. I find her more delightfully charming 
every day. How came she in the old Hall? What do 
you know of her antecedents ? There ! I beg pardon, 


Jantia’s Dower. 12 1 

John, I have touched upon an old wound. Do not 
answer me.” 

“Jn truth, Harold, I would rather not enter into 
details. That she is a pure woman, there is no doubt. 
I only feared so much admiration would turn her 
head.” 

“ That pretty head is too well poised for that,” said 
Harold. “ She is as demure under compliment as an 
old soldier under fire. You remember that old beau, 
Fred Burns? Last night he paid her a very florid com- 
pliment. You, as usual, were engrossed in politics. 
Janita looked at the old fool graciously, and said, 
‘ Sir, you are very kind.’ Then she added in a low 
voice, to me in French, ‘ But how he lies, Harold, how 
he lies ! ’ I was convulsed with mirth at her tone, but 
she never smiled.” 

“ She is a curious creature,” I returned. 

But despite reluctance on my part, we soon became 
the fashion, as Van Arsdell had predicted, and the 
stories of my marriage grew from obscure hints of a 
mesalliance to the wildest reports of Janita’s birth and 
parentage. Mr. Kennedy was radiant whenever I 
chanced to meet him. He was still turning over m\ 
money, and now that my mysterious marriage ap- 
peared such a prosperous one, he was ready to con- 
gratulate himself upon having taken me to Axtell Hall 
that fateful night. 

Something akin to happiness often swept over me 
during these days, when I saw that Janita brought me 
peace and even prestige, but it was the worldly-com- 


122 


Janita’s Dower. 


fort, which is so often forced upon us in lieu of that 
higher, holier law of earth-love. I worked hard to 
place far from me any possibility of touching <^hat 
treasure which I had grown to abhor. As my wife, 
and a devoted and true woman, I had learned to rever- 
ence Janita, and I longed to give her every worldly 
gratification possible. 

She seemed very happy, and demanded little of me 
beyond a smile of indulgence or a word of praise, but I 
found myself wishing she would exact more of me. 

In the spring my aunt and Susy returned, and 
Harold came less frequently to our house. Janita 
missed him sadly. She was always so merry with 
Harold that I began to miss their cheerful mirth also, 
and I exerted myself somewhat to divert her. We 
spent our evenings more together, as I was reluctant 
to have Janita in our social world without Harold’s 
care, and I unconsciously fell into the habit of coming 
home earlier, because I knew it pleased her. 

As we advanced into a successful social life, we 
found another world — a new world of our own, and 
before the summer was over I suddenly became con- 
scious that love held me in a bond I had no desire to 
loosen. I did not analyze my newly-acquired content. 
Life grew bright. and full of hope, and as there was no 
acknowledgment in words of the happiness that was 
ours, I supposed that Janita had accepted as tacitly as 
I had the flood of sunshine that the future seemed to 
hold for us. But how little we men fathom a woman’s 
heart. 


Janita’s Dower. 


123 


With the consciousness of another life intrusted to 
her,. came the truthful revelation of all that her mar- 
riage had been. The childishness that was so charm- 
ing passed from her. She grew pale and wistful, 
drooping like a flower, shrinking even from my ten- 
derness. I knew she often spent hours in weeping, 
although she thought she had successfully concealed 
all traces of tears from me. I grew anxious about her 
and called in a physician. He commended a change 
of air at once, and filled me with consternation by giv- 
ing me advice as to securing cheerful companionship 
of her own sex for my wife. “ Send for your cousin, 
or aunt, or some cheerful body to liven her up, my 
dear sir, or you’ll have your wife seriously ill, and 
your babe still-born.” 

His words came upon me like a sharp blow between 
the eyes. Change of air meant separation, for I could 
not at that time leave my office, and to think of home 
without Janita wrung my heart. Then how helpless I 
was to obey the physician’s second piece of advice. I 
talked to Janita, however, as if the change must be 
made at once, for I feared if I showed my reluctance 
to part with her she would refuse to go, and thus 
imperil her life and that of our child. 

She heard the physician’s verdict passively, and 
made little comment. Her silence made me long to 
wring from her some expression of regret, such as T 
felt, that Ave should have to be parted even for the 
matter of a few weeks, but I dared not agitate her. 

Harold had been settling Aunt Mildred and Susy 


124 


Janitas Dower. 


in a healthful summer resort, and he found a place not 
far distant for Janita. Every day, as I learned later, 
Susy and Janita saw each other during the summer. 
Susy touched by the wan face, yearning to speak to 
Janita. Janita suffering and longing for comfort. But 
neither dared make the first advances. 

I made several trips to see Janita, but never encoun- 
tered my relatives. Janita returned in the autumn, 
stronger, but very quiet and unlike her former self. 
Her pretty display of affection for me had ceased. She 
was grateful for all that was done for her, but she had 
lost her demonstrative manner. 

I sorely missed her gay spirit, and was conse- 
quently very tender and careful of her slightest wish. 

In December our babe was born. On the anniver- 
sary of the day I married Janita, the second year, my 
only son, John Harold Willoughby, was born, and 
God alone knows the mingled awe and joy in my 
heart as I held him for the first time in my arms. 
Would the sins of the father be visited upon this 
child? 

It was my first and awful thought, as the past arose 
to confront me. And then the memory of his mercy 
came upon me, and I felt that I could but trust in his 
will. 

And Janita? She was very happy in her mother- 
hood, but all her caresses were now lavished upon the 
boy. I found myself longing for a return of her pretty 
demonstrative ways I was wont to avoid and ignore. 
But I was too proud to speak to her on the subject, and 


Janita’s Dower. 


125 


I told myself that a desire to spare her any pain with- 
held me from complaining of this change in her. I see 
now the indomitable pride and shame that kept me 
silent. 

About three months after the babe was born I re- 
turned home earlier than usual. I had grown accus- 
tomed to going at once to the nursery where I usually 
found Janita sitting with Harold in her arms, the pic- 
ture of happy motherhood. 

I was proceeding up-stairs lightly, when the sound 
of voices made me pause and lean against the banister 
in sudden agitation. 

“ I have long wanted to come to you,” I heard in the 
tones that had pleaded in the church with my brother. 
“ My heart has yearned toward you ever since last 
summer ” 

“ Hush, dear, all that is forgotten. Look at the 
darling in your lap, and know that as you love him, 1 
speak the truth when I say that I do not regret the 
past. I have lived to learn more and more of my own 
heart, Janita, and I am very happy and content.” 

“ You are so good. I can never be like you. Oh ! 
can you not teach me the way to make him love me ? ” 

“Janita, how can you doubt his love? Did he not 
give up all to marry you? This little child should 
teach you both forbearance, if you have not peace. I 
am so glad you call him John. How do you say it so 
prettily — ^Jan? He seems named for you both. Ah! 
see, your tears have fallen on his sweet wee face. 
Shall Aunt Susy kiss them quite away? ” 


126 


Janita’s Dower. 


I crept softly down-stairs again as they bent over 
the babe; Every pulse within me that had risen in 
sudden riot at the sound of Susy’s voice, calmed to 
peace, as I felt myself an outcast even in this circle of 
love, thrown like a halo about the person of the 
woman I had ruthlessly sacrificed. 

I felt Susy’s avowal of content, meant her love for 
Harold, and yet I shrank at the thought as if guilty 
of sacrilege. If she loved my brother it was still her 
own sweet secret. 

When I heard them on the stairs I came from the 
library. Susy flushed crimson, but her eyes met mine 
calmly as she put her hand out and greeted me frank- 
ly. Janita was very pale, and I felt her eyes upon 
me, watchfully. 

“You have seen my son, Susy?” I asked as if we 
had parted yesterday. 

“ I came to see him, John. He is in every way a 
worthy Willoughby. I trust I may come and see him 
often? ” 

“ Your welcome is a foregone conclusion. How is 
Aunt Mildred?” 

“ Not very well this season. I presume Harold has 
told you that she has purchased the old Axtell Place in 
Flatbush ? ” 

“ No,” I said, trying to speak naturally, while I saw 
Janita’s fingers tighten on the banister. “ It is a fine 
quaint old place, and you will enjoy it, Susy.” 

“ I think I shall. Harold does not seem as pleased 
as I thought he would be, and opposed aunty, and al- 


Janita’s Dower. 


127 


most made a scene for himself, but she has quite won 
him over. But I must go. Aunty does not know 
where I am, and I dare not tell her. Good-by. I wish 
you would come and see me, Janita, for I must bore 
you by making all the visits. No, John, the carriage 
is not waiting. I ran away from aunty.” 

And after kissing Janita, she vanished like a sun- 
beam, and left us in the shadow. Janita stood leaning 
against a chair, her eyes drooping, her face pale. 

Suddenly she raise her eyes and they met mine. 

“ I could not be like her,” she said, in a stifled tone. 
“ I could not love any one as she has. I am ” 

“ Janita,” I said, laying my hand on her shoulder, 
“ you are my wife, the mother of my child. I am 
content.” 

She turned upon me a long gaze, then went up the 
stairway. But I saw her head was bowed and she 
wept bitterly, 


128 


Janita’s Dower. 


CHAPTER IX. 


“ Man ! 

Thou pendulum twixt a smile and tear.” 

— Byron. 

All of that summer we saw a great deal of Harold 
and Susy. They would slip away from the house in 
Flatbush and come to us, bringing a great deal of 
pleasure into our quiet lives. It was easy to perceive 
how Harold’s love affair was progressing. 

My aunt had furnished Axtell Hall very hand- 
somely, and was enjoying her purchase with her usual 
zest. Susy’s rapture over the old house met with 
little response from us. 

To my surprise Janita seemed less moved by the 
constant references to the house than either Harold or 
myself. She seemed to think of little else than her 
baby, and Harold’s frankly expressed aversion for his 
new home, at first surprised her. 

“ Harold was very foolish,” said Susy, laughing. 
“ Aunty got so vexed with him that she secured the 
house at once when she found he opposed her. You 
know she dislikes opposition.” 

Susy was holding my small son as she spoke, and 
she glanced merrily over his head at Harold. Harold 
bit his mustache in silence, and I said : 


Janita’s Dower. 


129 


“ Arbitrary as ever ! ” 

“ That trait waxes stronger with increasing years,” 
said Harold. “ I think she would have enjoyed put- 
ting me in the haunted chamber, had there been any 
egress or entrance save through a window. It would 
have been a just punishment for my sin of opposi- 
tion.” 

“ John, just fancy it ! A room to which we can 
find no entrance. I am so eager to explore, and reveal 
a hidden stairway. They tell strange, blood-curdling 
tales about old Col. Axtell. I really often think that 
I see ghosts when I go through the hall.” 

“ Do you believe in ghosts ? ” asked Janita, who was 
very courageous. 

“ No — only those of the past that rise occasionally 
to confront us,” she returned lightly, as she kissed Jan 
and relinquished him to his mother. Then she looked 
up and saw something in Harold’s face and mine, and 
she flushed painfully. Janita diverted the train of 
thought, however, being quite oblivious of Susy’s reply. 

“ I think Jan has a tooth,” she said, prosaically, and 
in a moment Susy was eagerly investigating the baby’s 
little mouth. 

It was just at this time that I happened one day to 
be at Harold’s studio as he was being introduced to 
a very prepossessing stranger, and shared in the intro- 
duction. Our old friend Van Arsdell had brought the 
man in. A tall, dark-eyed man, with a closely-trimmed 
black beard, and well-cut features. At first glance 
there was something startlingly familiar in his face, 
9 


130 


Janita’s Dower. 


but in a few moments I was quite convinced I had 
never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Wallace 
Barney before. He was a bright, good-natured fellow, 
and after this I met him often with Harold, and they 
finally went away in the autumn together for a month’s 
shooting. 

Time passed swiftly, and in the easy comfort of our 
household I almost forgot the treasure that lay con- 
cealed in the bank vaults, or, if I thought of it at all, 
it was to resolve at some future time to transform it 
into some good that would redeem it from the stigma 
under which it rested. We led busy lives. Janita was 
a favorite in our small circle, mainly composed of 
artists and those engaged in literary careers. We had 
little to do with the more aristocratic fashionable 
coterie to which my aunt belonged, and in which Susy 
was obliged to aid her in her social duties. Harold’s 
artistic bent made him one of our circle as well, and 
frequently Susy was his companion. She wore a dia- 
mond ring on her left hand, although she never vouch- 
safed any confidence about it, even when with Janita. 

Our boy was nearly two years old when the first 
circumstance occurred to break in upon our estab- 
lished peace. Janita and Harold had always been the 
best of friends, their good fellowship causing me at 
times a remorseful sigh. Harold seemed to understand 
the child-woman as I could not hope to understand 
her. Alas ! I had even grown accustomed to her per- 
formance of every wifely duty, without the charm of 
caress or demonstration of affection. 


Janita’s Dower. 


131 

For some time Harold and Janita had had a charm- 
ing secret between them. I had teased Janita a little, 
but when Jan’s picture was given to me on my birth- 
day, the portrait beautifully executed by Harold, I 
looked upon it as the result of the mysterious secret, 
and gave no more thought to the matter. 

One evening we were to attend a large dinner, given 
by one of my fellow editors, when a violent storm 
arose, and the rain fell in such torrents that I decided 
to remain at home. Janita did not appear at all disap- 
pointed, but was quite bright and talkative during the 
dinner hour. After dinner I played with the boy for 
some time, glad of the opportunity to romp with him. 
He was in a gale of pleasure that night, as I danced 
him on my knee, or swung him to my shoulder. Then 
as a grand finale, before sending him to bed, I carried 
him to where his mother stood leaning against the 
mantel, and bent until he caught his arm about her 
neck. She kissed him laughingly, and his little hand 
snatched at the pearls she wore on her neck, for she 
was dressed to go with me to the dinner. Then the 
little rogue suddenly drew our heads together with an 
arm around each, and in a moment I had pressed my 
lips to Janita, in a warm caress, that reminded me of 
the first kiss I had given her so long ago in the haunted 
chamber. Jan insisted on linking us with his little 
arms, so I passed my arm about Janita, and we went 
thus as far as the foot of the stairs ; then I carried the 
child to the nursery. 

On my return Janita stood once more by the mantel. 


132 Janita’s Dower. 

The evening was cool, and I had ordered a wood iire 
made on the hearth. Janita was clad in black velvet, 
falling about her in graceful folds. She held one hand 
against the pearls at her throat, as she stood evidently 
in grave thought, tapping one little black satin slipper 
that peeped out below her gown. I hated the sight of 
those pearls, but had grown accustomed to see her wear 
them. 

I went up to her gaily. I was very light-hearted to- 
night. 

“ I am not sorry for the storm,” I said. “ We will 
have no callers, and an evening at home with one’s wife 
is a rare boon. Janita, we are too popular. I never 
see you alone any more.” 

“ Do you wish it ? ” she asked, a little languor in the 
tone that was not natural. 

“ With all my heart,” I replied. “ I am negotiating 
for a desert island for the ensuing summer. I shall 
place you and Jan upon it, and alone enjoy its privi- 
leges.” 

“ Does it still rain ? ” she asked listlessly. 

“ Yes. You were not disappointed about the dinner, 
Nita? I confess I felt a sense of relief in being home.” 

“ No — oh, no. I am glad to be home. I only won- 
dered if ” 

“ Well ! ” I said, as she hesitated. 

“ No matter,” she replied, “ The wood fire is very 
pleasant.” 

I watched her a few moments as she stood turned 
slightly from me, then I went to her, and gently un- 


Janita’s Dower. 


133 


fastened the clasp of the pearl necklace and kissed the 
warm white throat and neck, holding the pearls con- 
cealed in my hand. 

She looked surprised, then leaned against me, her 
lips quivering a little. 

“ Why do you take my pearls ? ” 

“ Do not wear them any more, Janita,” I said coax- 
ingly ; “ your throat is too soft and fair to need their 
luster. Promise me to give them up.” 

“ Oh ! this was what you wanted,” she said, draw- 
ing away from me a little. “ I cannot promise never 
to wear them. Harold says they are the most becom- 
ing jewel a woman can wear. On one condition I will 
put them aside for a time.” 

“ And the condition, Janita? ” I asked, drawing her 
to me once more, and feeling a strange thrill of novelty 
in thus making love to my wife. 

“ I have delayed asking you so long, that I know I 
have been foolishly timid,” she began. “ Next week, 
on Thursday, Harold has planned to have a small re- 
ception at his studio. Just a few of the M. C. C.,” 
mentioning a coterie of artists famous among us so- 
cially. “ I am to have a toilette of white satin. Now 
can you not guess my dilemma, and my request ? ” 

She looked up at me with a radiant, brilliant glance, 
quite confident of my ready compliance. 

“ Money, and a great deal of it,” I said conclusively, 
but in secret disappointment. I really hoped she would 
make a request requiring some sacrifice on my part. I 
was really eager to show her my devotion. 


134 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ No, I do not want money, John. I want the rubies 
from the treasure box. Harold says rubies alone will 
complete the toilette, and — I want them — ^John — they 
are mine ! ” 

“ Janita! ” my voice was full of astonished displeas- 
ure. We drew apart, and she crossed the room, saying 
petulantly : 

“ There ! I might have known you would refuse me. 
Of course, I know you must have used much of the 
treasure, but I hardly thought you would dispose of 
the jewels ” 

“ Stop,” I cried, and then the words seemed to choke 
me. I closed the door into the hall, that the servants 
should not hear, and then I said slowly and sternly : 

“ Is it possible that you have thought that I touched 
any part of that money? The wages of my soul, of 
my honor! Have you no conception of what these 
years have been to me? I scarcely know whether to 
attribute ignorance as the cause of your present re- 
quest, or to conclude that you really have no con- 
science, and that I have been wholly mistaken ” 

I checked myself, for Janita’s face had turned white 
to the lips, and she stood shivering. 

“Never touched the money, or the jewels?” she 
asked wonderingly. “ Why not ? It was mine. He 
gave it to me. It was all I had to give you. All I 
could bestow of comfort in our loveless life. What do 
you mean? If you have used none of this money, how 
do I come to have this home ? How can I dress thus ? 
Speak, John, tell me quickly.” 


Janita’s Dower. 


T35 


It was too true. I had never told her of my resolve 
regarding the treasure, I had never explained to her 
any feeling I had in the matter. Knowing her strange 
childish nature, I had trusted to the instinctive sense of 
right and wrong becoming so developed in her that she 
would readily understand the position in which I was 
placed. But I did not understand my wife yet, nor 
had I made allowance for a sense lacking in her. Only 
recently had I roused myself to the pleasure of my 
wife’s companionship. Oh ! what a senseless fool I had 
been. 

“ Janita,” I said, still sternly, as a gathering realiza- 
tion of my own shortcomings, as husband and guide, 
was borne in upon me, “ no luxury we enjoy was pro- 
cured with that wretched money. I have worked to 
give you all this comfort. I would starve rather than 
use what you have told me is the plunder of thieves. 
Pardon me, my wife, I know I hurt you, but your own 
words have so named it. My soul revolted at the 
thought of using this money. I did not intend to de- 
ceive you. You never asked me before about the fate 
of the strong box. It lies at the bank as unmolested as 
the day I placed it there, and neither my hand, nor any 
hand of my blood, shall ever touch a piece of money 
or the jewels contained therein.” 

She looked at me as if I had struck her, then sank 
into a chair with a moan, and crouched there. 

“ I brought you nothing, then — nothing ! ” she mur- 
mured. “ I thought I had at least brought you com- 


Janita’s Dower. 


136 

fort and luxury, if I could not bring you happiness. 
You have spurned it all.” 

“ Janita, my child, let us have no more of this. Meet 
the truth squarely, and there will be an end to tears 
and regret. It is true that at one time I lost all sense 
of honor, but the years you have spent with me since 
must have taught you how much dearer than wealth is 
my name and conscience. We could not touch this 
money and not feel degraded to the level of common 
thieves. Your proposition to wear the jewels has 
startled me beyond measure. It has called forth that 
ghost of unrighteousness in my past that I have striven 
to live down. Heaven knows that I yielded once to 
temptation, but I have striven since to expiate the curse 
of that weak moment ” 

“ Nay ! it is I that have been your curse,” she cried, 
suddenly lifting her head. “ And when I thought I 
pleased you most, you have remembered all that cruel 
wrong, I could not prevent. I have even given you a 
child, tainted with the blood of thieves. Oh ! why did 
you not let me slip away and die before I lived to hear 
you say these words ? I never even guessed the wrong. 
I — I am so ignorant — and no one tells me. I thought 
you accepted all I had to give. I see now. I under- 
stand. I have been awakening slowly, ever since my 
baby came. It must be true, as Harold said last ” 

“ Stop, Janita, what has Harold said ? What right 
have you to discuss our relations with him? Answer 
me at once.” 

I laid no gentle hand^on her arm, for I was throb- 


Janita’s Dower. 


137 

bing in every pulse, with the old unreasonable anger. 
How dared my brother speak to my wife on a subject 
which she never broached with me. She turned a 
frightened, pleading faceito mine, and at that moment 
our small maid pushed the door open, and entered with 
two cards upon a tray. 

Janita recovered herself quickly as I handed her the 
cards. They bore the names of Harold and his friend, 
Mr. Wallace Barney. 

“ Show them up, Tessa,” I said ; then, as the girl 
disappeared, I turned to Janita, saying hurriedly: 

“ We have misunderstood each other once more. 
Forgive me if I seemed harsh. But, Janita, wife, in 
Heaven’s name, let no one, not even my brother, share 
your confidence, or discuss with you the bond that 
should be sacred, be it ever so hateful to one, or both. 
By the love we both bear the child I conjure you to 
remember this.” 

She bowed her head, her lips quivering painfully, 
and made no reply. Harold entered, with his usual 
debonaire manner, delighted at having escaped a re- 
ception that promised to be a bore. I was surprised 
at his bringing Mr. Barney to call, for I had not in- 
vited him to do so, and Harold knew that I was very 
particular as to who came to my house in this familiar 
manner. 

Janita started nervously when Mr. Barney’s voice 
fell on her ear. A mellow, pleasant voice, with just a 
faint suspicion of a foreign accent. She turned upon 
him a quick puzzled glance, tffen took up her role of 


/ 


138 Janita’s Dower. 

hostess, and played it to perfection as usual. It fell 
out quite naturally that I talked with Mr. Barney, 
while Harold and Janita, after singing together, re- 
mained tete-a-tete at the piano. Harold stood with 
his back to me, completely concealing Janita, and I 
could only hear the murmur of their voices. For some 
reason I was vexed to-night by Harold’s perfect under- 
standing and evident enjoyment of my wife’s compan- 
ionship. I had heard, in a general way, that Mr. 
Barney’s life had been a varied one. That he was a 
thorough man of the world was betrayed by every 
quick jest and clever anecdote, and once I was recalled 
suddenly from wandering attention to his words by 
seeing that he recognized my vigilance toward the 
couple at the piano. 

He was much interested in a collection of coins I 
owned, and showed a keen knowledge of their value. 
He spoke in a careless way also of my aunt’s recent 
purchase of the Axtell place, and showed a familiarity 
with all my brother’s affairs that aroused in me a 
sudden feeling of distrust, although I could not help 
liking the man. 

When they departed the rain was over, and I de- 
cided to go meet an imaginary engagement, to avoid 
further conversation with Janita that night. I felt that 
I must have time to think and contend with this new 
emotion. Could it be possible that I was jealous of 
my wife? “ No,” I said. “ But I am anxious that she 
should guard the name she bears against a shadow of 
dishonor. This anger of mine is nothing more.” 


Janita’s Dower. 


139 


When I returned that night she had retired and was 
asleep with Jan in the nursery, her face pressed against 
his baby fairness. I gazed at them for some time; 
then, laying the pearl necklace, still in my possession, 
upon Janita’s table, I stole away, feeling more un- 
happy than I had felt for days. 

For some reason which I could not define, we avoided 
each other for a few days, and the experience of the 
old days in the cramped lodgings seemed about to be 
repeated. Janita looked sad and wistful. 

Susy came in to call on Wednesday and found us at 
luncheon. She was quick to see the alteration in Janita, 
and said Nita needed a change of air. 

“ A new world, Susy, perhaps Heaven if I am good 
enough,” Janita replied with such bitter listlessness that 
I saw Susy’s quick start of surprise. Her glance 
sought mine at once, and I could not meet it frankly. 
She chatted on, however, touching upon the reception 
Harold was about to give at his studio, and finally 
upon Mr. Barney, Harold’s latest friend. 

“ I do not like him,” she said shortly. “ I' cannot tell 
you why, but I cannot trust him. He pries into one’s 
affairs so. Harold is perfectly infatuated ; we almost 
quarreled about him last night. What did you think 
of him, Nita?” 

“ I do not think that I bestowed a thought upon him. 
He seemed like other men, only with exaggerated 
whiskers. I dislike dark men exceedingly.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried Susy, then checked herself as I shook 


140 


Janita’s Dower. 


my head a little mischievously and pointed to a picture 
of Harold hanging on the wall. 

“ Yet this Mr. Barney did remind me of something 
very disagreeable when I first heard him speak. But 
the feeling passed away,” added Janita, musingly. 
“ He reminded me — of — of — oh ! yes ! ” she stopped 
abruptly, a burning crimson swept to her very fore- 
head, and, bending over little Jan, she sedulously pre- 
pared his food, and avoided looking toward me again. 

“ You are going to the reception at the studio, or 
course,” said Susy, hastily changing the subject. 

“ I presume we are. We have cards,” I said, smil- 
ing. 

“ Oh ! you must not refuse, for Harold is to unveil 
the picture he has painted for the next exhibition, and 
it would break his heart to have you absent.” 

“ We will not disappoint Harold,” said Janita, con- 
clusively, and then I arose and left them to talk over 
the details of the affair. 

That afternoon I had occasion to go to Harold’s 
studio. Mr. Kennedy had advised me about some in- 
vestments of Harold’s, and I hastened to warn my 
brother of the danger of the speculation. 

As I entered the building wherein Harold had lodg- 
ings as well as his studio, I met Mr. Barney and my 
old friend. Van Arsdell. I saw at once that Van was 
under the influence of liquor, but I had to pause since 
he addressed himself to me. 

“ Coin’ up, eh ! old boy ? After your wife, eh ? that 
is right — look sharp after beautiful wife, eh ? ” 


Janita’s Dower. 


141 

Barney gave me a quick glance, and smiled suavely. 

“ Our friend is a little elevated, and the sight of your 
wife has more than pleased him. You will find her 
above,” he said. 

“ For Heaven’s sake get him oflf of the street,” I said, 
shocked at Van’s condition. 

“ No — would rather go with you, my boy. Find 
pretty wife, give Harold the devil,” with a drunken leer 
at me. 

I turned away in disgust, leaving Barney to deal 
with him, while I hurried to Harold’s studio, vexed 
and startled by Barney’s corroborating Van’s drunken 
statement regarding my wife’s presence there. 

I was delayed by Harold’s small errand boy in the 
ante-room. 

“ Mr. Willoughby was not to be disturbed except on 
particular business.” 

I said I must see him at once, and after a few mo- 
ments I was admitted. Harold met me with a glance 
of surprise and welcome, and said: 

“ Why, old man, you seem disturbed. In no trouble 
I hope ? ” 

I made some reference to my meeting with Van, but 
did not repeat his words. I felt a sudden shame for 
my suspicion under Harold’s frank gaze. 

As I turned to depart after stating my errand I 
stooped and picked up a woman’s glove, exhaling a 
faint odor of violets. 

“Harold,” I said coldly, “my wife has been here? 
Is she here now ? This is her glove.” 


142 


Janita’s Dower. 


For the first time in years Harold’s eyes fell be- 
neath my steady gaze. He started to speak twice and 
failed. Then a slight noise occurred behind me, and 
Janita came forth from a curtained alcove. 

She came toward me calmly, showing no conscious- 
ness of anything save of having been discovered. 

“ I must have dropped it,” she said, taking the glove 
from me. “ I am glad not to lose it. I dislike odd 
gloves. And you have found me here at last. But our 
secret is safe, Harold. Do not look so downcast. I 
can walk home with you, John.” 

I bit my lip in silence. I dared not speak. Harold 
turned from us both, and, dashing his palette from him 
with an exclamation, walked to the window. 

“What have I done?” asked Janita, in a trembling 
voice. “John, are you angry? Have I done wrong? 
Speak to me, do not look like that! Harold, why do 
you turn away? We meant no harm. Tell him, Har- 
old, tell him how we ” 

“ I wish to know nothing — nothing. Janita, my poor 
wife, I have no reproach for you. Put on your bonnet 
and return with me. I trusted my brother, but see that 
he has taken advantage of the sweet confidence of mv 
wife, to further his ends. And I hear from drunken 
fools of clandestine meetings, and learn my blind folly 
and his petty revenge. Janita, do not delay, get ready 
to go with me at once.” 

“John — John, you are angry with Harold; oh! do 
not, do not ” 

“ Hold ! Janita, dear sister, say no more,” said Har- 


Janita’s Dower. 


143 

old, turning toward us as he spoke, “ I have been im- 
prudent, unwise, if you will, but John misjudges me, as 
he must ever misjudge me, in his present angry mood. 
Janita knows what motive brought her here, and who- 
ever has spied upon us has had no cause for ” 

“ This is true, John,” said Janita ; “ you will know 
our secret so soon now. I entreat you not to quarrel 
with one another because I have done wrong. I know 
that I have transgressed some law, but believe me I 
have done so innocently and from ignorance. Harold, 

let me tell John now why I came here — please ” 

“ Janita,” said Harold proudly, “ I demand that John 
shall make no further inquiry. He has misjudged me 
and has no kindness in his heart for me. But I can 
wait until he is ready to do me justice. Until then we 
must part.” 

All the pride of the Willoughbys could not veil the 
grief in Harold’s eyes or still the raging in my heart 
as I led Janita away. I constrained myself on the way 
home to tell Janita as gently as possible what construc- 
tion might be placed upon her visit to Harold’s studio. 
I told her the comment I had heard. She shrank back 
appalled at the thought. 

“ I meant no wrong, John,” she pleaded. 

“ I know this, Janita ; I feel it. You have never given 
me cause to doubt your truth. But Harold, whom I 
trusted, who has always been your kindest shield, and 
closest friend, even when you knew it not, for him to 
have forgotten — nay ! he could not forget — he seeks to 
affront me ! ” 


144 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ Oh, John, no — no ! ” 

“ Listen, Janita. I ask you no questions. Keep your 
word with Harold now, since you are pledged. But 
never bind yourself again to miserable secrecy ; I can- 
not endure it ; I must have all your confidence or none.” 

A look of triumph sprang into her eyes, and she 
smiled a little. 

“ Jan,” she said softly, using her diminutive for my 
name. “Jan, are you jealous?” 

Her words stung me with their truth, but I resented 
them. 

“ You may call it by the name that best pleases you, 
Janita. It matters little, so that you heed my wishes,” 

I replied with cold hauteur. 

She' made no reply, but the same quivering expres- 
sion of pain crossed her face that I had seen there the 
night I told her her dower lay untouched in the bank. 

“ But, John,” she ventured to say after a few mo- 
ments, “ you will go to this reception to-morrow. Oh •• 
you must go ” 

“ I will never willingly cross his threshold again in 
this life,” I burst forth harshly. “ Let me hear no * 
more. I am heartsick over the matter.” And she 
shrank from me, hopelessly. 

As usual Susy was the peacemaker. She came to 
me the following day with a note from Harold. In 
stately terms he begged I would not absent myself 
from' his studio the following evening. If I would sus- 
pend my judgment he felt sure I should be happier in 


Janita’s Dower. 145 

every way, and do him justice in exonerating him from 
all save thoughtlessness. 

Susy gazed at me so pleadingly as I read that I con- 
sented to go, glad at heart to feel obliged to crush the 
troubled thoughts of the last few days. I never wanted 
to doubt my brother. 

To my surprise Mr. Barney called that evening while 
Susy was still with us. I had not asked him to call 
again, nor had Janita. He was very entertaining, but 
it impressed me that he was a little too untrammeled by 
formalities. His black eyes rested too boldly upon 
Janita’s beauty and the delicate contour of Susy’s face. 
I found myself watching him narrowly, trying to define 
an impression that ever eluded me. 

During his visit little Jan was brought in for his 
good-night kiss. As I held him aloft on my shoulder, 
proud of his rippling sunny curls and dimpled beauty, 
Mr. Barney said, jestingly: 

“ He has a golden shower upon his head. A precious 
treasure, Mr. Willoughby, one all the wealth of Eng- 
land could not buy.” 

“ Why of England? Add that of America, France, 
the Indias, the world, in fact, and you still could not 
measure his weight in value. Say good night, Jan, and 
let us gallop to bed ! ” 

Whereat the boy shook his hand at the others, and 
I bore him away. 

On the evening of the reception at Harold’s studio T 
felt Janita to be in a strangely excited mood. She 
looked pale when she came to me as I waited for her, 
10 


Janita’s Dower. 


146 

She wore the black velvet, which was always my favor- 
ite gown for her. About her neck were the pearls. 
Her eyes shone like stars and her hands trembled as 
she drew on her gloves. 

“ Janita,” I said, moved by some impulse to speak as 
I had longed to do, ever since my harshness the night 
she referred to her hapless dower. “ I fear I was un- 
kind to you Tuesday night. I was surprised into stern- 
ness. I want you to understand ” 

“ I do understand you,” she interposed quietly, stand- 
ing with humbly drooping head. She was a vision of 
loveliness thus, and I was moved as never before by 
her sweet, white face. 

“ I do understand you. I also realize how untrue, 
how dishonest I have been, how unworthy your regard 
as your wife and Jan’s mother. I was blind, I was mad 
to permit myself to think I could ever be more than a 
burden to you. I cheated myself into the belief that 
you were using that money because I wanted to be a 

little content and happy, but now ” 

“ Are you not content or happy, my wife? ” 

“ I am growing strong to live without either content 
or happiness. And perhaps to-night you may forgive 
me all I have done. But remember, John, it is Harold 
who has been my friend in helping me to accomplish 
this slight atonement. And what I have done for him 
is but a poor return, coupled with your anger toward 
him, Remember tQ»night when you meet him, 
John, I ask it not for my sake, but your own.” 

• I merily ff?r seemed 


Janita’s Dower. 


147 


to place her far from me. In silence I wrapped her 
cloak about her, and then with an impulse of tender- 
ness pressed my lips to her cheek. She scarcely seemed 
to notice the caress. 

When we entered the ante-room of Harold’s studio 
we were evidently very early. 

“Was not the hour on the card, Janita?” I asked, 
not a little annoyed to be so prompt. I craved no inter- 
view with my brother. 

“ Yes — Harold wished us to be here at eight,” she 
replied, and then she put her arm through mine, and I 
felt that she was trembling as we entered Harold’s 
studio, brilliant with its luxurious appointments. 

I was dazzled by the bright lights, even while I felt 
Susy, clad in silvery white, was claiming my attention, 
and then my brother clasped my hand heartily as he 
said : 

“ Ah ! John, the time has come when two women, two 
wilful women, have their way. Some one else here 
wishes to greet you.” 

And surely there stood my Aunt Mildred, resplen- 
dent in satin and diamonds, and something brighter 
and better than diamonds shining in her eyes, as she 
stretched forth her hands to me. 

Seven years since those dear eyes had looked into 
'^mine with love, and the sorrow of those years swept 
over me as I clasped her hands and bowed my face 
upon them. 

“ My aunt, you have forgiven me ? ” I said in a low 
tone. 


148 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ Yes, John. I love you still, and love means for- 
giveness,” she said, tremblingly, and I saw that the 
others had withdrawn and we were alone. 

“ Aunt, I was, and still am, unworthy your love. I 
was rash, cruel, and foolish in my ” 

“ No, no, John, we are both Willoughbys. That is 
saying enough. But your wife and the little boy won 
me, John. Susy and Harold drew me on. They taught 
me to love him day by day, until I used to come here, 
in fear lest the mother would not bring the child for 
his portrait. And after that when Janita came to please 
Harold she brought the pretty rogue still, and he wound 
his arms about my neck and called me ‘ god-mamma ’ 
so prettily. I did not know it was your child until I 
loved both mother and babe. No matter where you 
found your wife, John, no wonder you love her. She 
is lovable beyond words.” 

This then was the plot; this what Janita thought 
would atone for all else. I was more overwhelmed than 
I had been in the days of struggling misery. I battled 
then for endurance, now the tide of gratitude swept 
over me like a storm, and I shook with tearless sobs. 
My aunt let my emotion have sway; then as if to re- 
store me said in her quick, blunt way : 

“ But mind, John, every cent of mine goes to Har- 
old. The boy has my love, that should satisfy you.” 

“ It is all he will ever claim, dear aunt. May he 
live to appreciate all that that love means.” 

“ Let us pray he may be guided more wisely than we 
have been. But here is Susy back again, and Janita 


Janita’s Dower. 


149 


with Harold, and the other guests will soon arrive. Do 
you stay 'near me, John, for I am strange to so much 
genius as will be assembled here to-night. Janita, you 
look pale, child. Come and kiss me.” 

I grasped Harold’s hand fervently, and we needed 
no words. Susy came in for a cousinly kiss, and Janita 
alone stood a little aloof from the group we formed. 
She did not heed my aunt, but as I stretched my hand 
to her I saw her face change. An ashen hue spread 
over the already pallid features, her eyes were fixed on 
the doorway. 

I stepped toward her, quickly casting a glance toward 
the door, and saw, as she had seen, Mr. Wallace Barney 
standing in the ante-room gazing in at her. And did I 
fancy it? Was his finger laid in warning on his lips? 

One could see the mobile mouth and white teeth 
now, for his black beard was shaven, and he appeared 
like another man. Janita caught at my arm. 

“ Take me home, Jan,” she whispered. 

“You are ill; what is it, my dear?” I said nerv- 
ously. 

“ No — it is over now ! I was faint. I thought I saw 
— a ghost. Keep near me, for God’s sake, keep near 
me ! ” 

She added this in another whisper as she rallied and 
tried to reply gaily to Susy’s anxieties. Mr. Barney 
came toward us. In his wake were several other guests 
and the rooms were soon filling rapidly. Janita, who 
was always much sought after, was soon laughing and 
talking, but always with that furtive glance of fear 


Janita’s Dower. 


150 

toward Barney that perplexed and annoyed me. Once 
I saw her go to Harold as if entreating something, but 
he refused her laughingly. She tried to follow him, 
however, to an inner room, where his recently-com- 
pleted picture was to be exhibited, but on the threshold 
she met Mr. Barney and drew back. Twice after this 
I saw my wife try to speak to Harold quietly, and ob- 
served that Barney so placed himself as to baffle her 
purpose, and it troubled me. 

About ten o’clock Harold took his place beside the 
door of the inner room, and, after rapping for silence, 
said : 

“ My friends, I promised to-night to give you a 
glimpse of the picture I have recently painted. I ask 
your frank criticism. You will find it within this room. 
I may as well add that I dedicate the work to my 
brother and his wife, to whom I owe the purest inspira- 
tions and some of the happiest hours of my life. Will 
you enter ? ” 

They passed in, laughing comments being made upon 
his short speech. My aunt was on my arm, and Harold 
had gone at once to Janita’s side. Barney, with Susy, 
contrived in some way to keep between my wife and 
me. I found myself striving to watch my wife. 

Then as Harold drew the crimson curtain away from 
the picture I started back aghast at what was revealed, 
and did not even realize that Janita had glided to my 
side, and stood there trembling and white. 

Within the frame stood Janita, or her counterpart, 
in the doorway of the old Axtell house, just as Harold 


Janita’s Dower. 


151 

and I had seen her that eventful night, and as I remem- 
bered he had sketched the scene from memory. But 
she held no candle in her slender hand, one of which 
was raised to shade her eyes, while on her other arm, 
his golden head against her shoulder, one small hand 
laid on the pearls about her throat, was our little Jan, 
fast asleep. 

“ Motherhood,” exclaimed a voice full of delight. 
“ Madonna Nita.” 

“ Beautiful ! Willoughby ; you have been inspired, 
surely.” 

“ The jewels are rarely painted.” 

These comments passed by me unnoticed. Pain and 
pleasure were tugging at my heart. Was this, then, 
the Heaven-taught lesson of my temptation and fall? 
This picture, to live forever as an illustration, of a 
wretched hour of weakness. 

Once more that terrible period of my life seemed to 
pour its flood of bitterness over me, and I shuddered. 
Could I ever live down such a memory ? Would it not, 
like this picture, arise to confront me, when I seemed 
most at peace? No — God had been good to me. He 
had brought forth from the wreck of my honor this 
lovely woman to bless my sinful life; this sweet child 
about whom were twined my very heart strings. Wh\- 
not humbly accept this lesson, and trust His loving 
kindness forevermore? 

I felt Harold pass his arm affectionately about my 
shoulders. 

“What think you of it, old fellow? Will you for- 


152 


Janita’s Dower. 


give me my imprudent error, and believe that I had 
no thought in all I did which was not true to you and 
Susy? ” 

“ Harold ! ” 

It was all I could say for a few moments, as we 
looked into each other’s eyes ; then I added : 

“ Susy has consented to become your wife ? ” 

“ Yes, in a day or two every one will know it. But 
here is your wife. She thinks, dear child, that I take 
the cream of your opinion and rob her of compli- 
ments.” 

But Janita was pressing close to me her face full of 
terror. 

“ Take me home, John,” she said hoarsely. “ I can 
bear no more — I am ill, oh ! take me home ! ” 

She clung to me, her eyes full of pleading, but Mr. 
Barney at her side, laid a detaining hand upon her arm. 

“ Madam,” he said in a cold, low voice, “ your ill- 
ness is well-timed. Before you and your husband de- 
part I will have one question answered. Where did 
you obtain the jewels worn about your neck to-night, 
and represented so cleverly in this picture? It is a 
question of importance to me.” 


Janita’s Dower. 


153 


CHAPTER X. 

“ There was a laughing devil in his sneer.” 

— Byron. 

As these words fell on my ear it seemed as if all in 
the room must have heard them. I felt the blood rush 
throbbing to my temples as I hastily glanced about me. 

Harold had passed on to Susy, and seemed all en- 
grossed in the picture. We stood somewhat apart from 
ihe others. I replied slowly as I drew Janita’s trem- 
bling hand through my arm. 

“ This, sir, is hardly the time or place for such abrupt 
inquiries. My wife is ill. I will see you to-morrow, 
at any hour you name.” 

“ That will not serve me,” he returned in a deter- 
mined tone. “ To-night must confirm or dispel my sus- 
picions. You will kindly follow me. I may detain you 
but a moment. It all depends upon the lady. We may 
make use of Mr. Willoughby’s apartments.’' 

So saying he walked toward the door at the end of 
the studio, which led to Harold’s private suite, and with 
easy familiarity he stood holding the door open for us 
to pass in. 

“ Since you have the bad taste to insist upon this 
interview, we must even grant it,” I said sternly, as I 
entered, half carrying Janita, who murmured a pro- 


154 


Janita’s Dower. 


test. “ Speak at once, and I will endeavor to satisfy 
your demand. You must be aware how inopportune 
such a request appears, especially when forced in this 
disagreeable manner upon the brother of your host.” 

For reply he softly closed the door and locked it 
putting the key in a conspicuous place on the mantel- 
shelf. 

The room in which we stood was Harold’s bedcham- 
ber. It was elegantly furnished, the bed in its alcove 
of silk hangings, and every appointment bringing into 
evidence the owner’s artistic taste. I had never been in 
this room of Harold’s before. Now the very clock 
ticking monotonously on the mantel, in the brief si- 
lence that fell seemed to mock me, and I heard once 
more those ugly voices, long silenced by the happier 
tones of wife and child, ” Perjured, forsworn, dis- 
honored.” 

Janita sank down on a low divan, turning her face 
from us both. Barney broke the silence in a smooth, 
clear voice. His white teeth shone pleasantly. I 
noted, with a curious sensibility to trifles, how beauti- 
ful was his mouth, shorn of the dark beard. 

“ I am sorry to have so agitated Madam,” he 
said. “ My question was, as I have already stated, 
one of peculiar interest to me. I may as well tell you 
at once, I am engaged in the secret service of the gov- 
ernment. In other words I am a detective.” 

“ Impossible ! ” 

The words burst from Janita’s lips as she rose to 
her feet, and stood gazing at Barney. He bore her 


Janita’s Dower. 


1^5 

scrutiny with a smile, but narrowed his eyes to a slow 
scorn, until she sank back to her former position, 
watching him, with a face full of misery and fear. 

“ Madam doubts the statement. I do not wonder 
at that. When we last met I was not following my 
present line of business. That is no matter. What 
I require of you to-night is that you tell me where 
you procured the pearls worn by Mrs. Willoughby.” 

Janita’s hand sought the pearls as if she would tear 
them from her throat, but I took her hand in mine 
and replied steadily : 

“ These jewels my wife assures me belonged to 
her mother. It is all she has that belonged to her 
family, and she is greatly attached to them.” 

“ Doubtless,” he said with a sarcastic intonation. 
“ Any reminder of her family must be dear to her, 
since she has always shown a marked attachment for 
them when fortune smiled. Since this is the case 
Madam also knows where the rest of the jewels are 
concealed ? ” 

“ Sir — Mr. Barney — you are my brother’s guest 
and friend, or I should not brook such conduct. Take 
advantage of your present situation as you will, but 
address yourself to me, and not to my wife. I am 
ready to answer any of your demands.” 

“ Your pardon, sir ! I accede to your request at 
once. We will spare the lady, as far as possible. The 
piece of history is hardly one that will add to your 
happiness, yet I am forced to a plain unvarnished 
statement. About eight years ago, a daring robbery 


Janita’s Dower. 


156 

was committed in Brooklyn, and among other things 
stolen was a box of jewels worth a small fortune. 
They belonged to an English family of wealth, and 
the jewels being peculiar in their setting, there was 
but a small chance of their being turned to account, 
without prompt detection. At this time a notorious 
band of thieves, with a foreigner at their head as 
Captain, were cleverly eluding the police. They were 
known to haunt the outskirts of Flatbush, but their 
rendezvous was never twice the same place. Im- 
mense rewards were offered for the recovery of the 
jewels, but the search proved fruitless. The ar- 
rest of their Captain, a surly Hollander, failed to 
elicit any information. He was tried and condemned 
to fifteen years in the Penitentiary, but refused to be- 
tray his comrades, or his knowledge of the jewels.” 

He paused a moment, for Janita had given voice 
to a low exclamation, as she bent her head upon her 
hands. Then he continued rapidly. 

“ As years passed on the event was almost for- 
gotten by all save those on the detective force. About 
four years ago it was whispered among the force, that 
one of the confederates in the robbery had made his 
appearance in Brooklyn. He was watched and it 
was discovered that they were using the old Axtell 
House in Flatbush as a rendezvous. The house was 
tenantless and well suited to their purpose. The po- 
lice were once more on the trail, but once more they 
were baffled. Upon searching the house, traces of 
the thieves’ sojourn were discovered, but the jewels 


Janita’s Uovver." 


157 


were missing. It was my fortune to know at this 
time-^” he spoke more slowly now, watching Janit.i 
with that narrowing scornful glance, “ a very beautiful 
girl, who was some relation to one of the gang of 
thieves. In my profession I make curious friend- 
ships. She had a brother whom she feared, and she 
sought to escape his influence. She was a child in 
years, but she had the audacity of an adventuress 
reared in infamy. She led me to believe that by 
marrying her, I would learn the secret of the jewels. 
She thought me a young and foolish lover. So I was, 
but I was also a detective. The night before I was 
to procure the jewels she gave me the slip, and dis- 
appeared with the brother, and the jewels. Since 
then I have endeavored to find her. I have spent four 
years in the search, to no avail. To-night I am re- 
warded. I recognize in Mrs. Willoughby, the beau- 
tiful woman, the child whom I admired. The jewels 
and the picture all convince me — the evidence is com- 
plete. I am sorry to make this disclosure since it 
must grieve and shock you, but business is business. 
If you doubt my right to interview you thus, I present 
my card.” 

As he spoke he held toward me a card. From the 
moment he addressed himself to me, I felt as if a thou- 
sand demons were tearing at my heart. 

Janita’s crouching figure and low moan only added 
to the fury raging within me. This then was to be the 
end — this the awful curse I had incurred. And to 
augment the agony, I knew, no matter what she had 


Janita’s Dower. 


158 

been ; no matter how black her past, or shameless her 
antecedents, she was the mother of my child, my wife, 
and I loved her. Yes, she was dearer to me than all 
the world in this moment of horrible* doubt. Could 
the memory of patient, unwearying effort, wifely de- 
votion and unblemished conduct be wiped out in one 
moment, by these dastardly words, recounting a sullied 
past? Was there no justice to deal with what her 
life had been with me? Must its beauty be blotted out 
by what had gone before ? 

I stood with clenched hands and blanched face, 
struggling with the overwhelming force of the pas- 
sionate love awakened in me, and the thought of her 
shame. 

I uttered no word, even when she came toward me, 
her dark eyes burning restlessly, her face ashen white. 

“ John,” she said, in a low intense tone, “ Jan, — my 
husband — I swear I never loved any man save you. 
Can you not believe my simple word ? Oh ! God ! have 
I ever deceived you, that you should doubt me now? 
I know you do not love me, that you never can. But 
I have tried to please you, and now — oh ! by the love 
we bear the child, by your knowledge of my life with 
you — tell me, do you believe that man? I make no 
protest. Your own heart must answer the question 
that condemns me. If so, I will go forth alone, and 
you may teach my child to hate me. No — no — learn 
to speak of me as of the dead. Only — only — let it be 
— gently — Jan, and say at least she loved us — once — 
and always.” 


Jantia's Dower. 


159 

She raised her face to mine, the tears coursing down 
her cheeks, hands clasped upon her forehead. 

I bent eagerly toward her, and saw doubt, misery, 
despair, in those beautiful eyes, but no shadow of shame 
or shrinking-. They were the eyes I had grown to love, 
and I saw truth and pleading looking forth upon me. 
I drew her into my arms, my heart beating even in 
that moment, with a wild exultation. 

“ Before God,” I cried, “ you are my true wife, I 
believe this, and I know I love you as my life and will 
protect you, until death shall part us.” 

She gave a cry like a suddenly released spirit, and 
hid her face upon my breast. Then she drew back 
proudly. 

“ Thank God, I can bear all now, since you love me. 
Before I had no hope. Now ! oh ! you shall know the 
truth, dear heart — the truth — the truth ! ” 

She drew away from me and faced Barney, who 
had taken two or three steps toward us, with a low- 
ering brow. Janita went swiftly to the mantel and 
taking the key handed it to me. 

“ Madam, you are bold. You make me your pris- 
oner,” he said, with cold composure. “ I hope you 
mean to do nothing rash ? ” 

“ I mean that my husband shall hear the truth, or 
you do not leave the house to-night. You have 
rested safe in my fear of you — I am protected now. 
You have changed your role, as I have mine. I know 
you, Frederick Orme, I knew you the moment you 
looked at me to-night, and I no longer fear you.” 


i6o 


Janita’s Dower. 


He started, his eyes widening in surprise and anger. 

“ Have a care,” he muttered in a low tone. 

“ This man,” continued Janita, with very much the 
same steady composure that had curved his lips a mo- 
ment before, “ this man is my brother. The confeder- 
ate who escaped the punishment that overtook one of 
his comrades. It was he who hid the jewels and money 
in the haunted chamber, and would have sold me to 
any man, to gain his end. At first I did not recognize 
him, but now the beard is gone, I see and know him in 
his true character. He trusted my former cowardice to 
shield him. The days when I used to crouch be- 
neath his oath and blow are past.” 

Barney never moved nor changed color as she 
spoke, only once the hand at his side twitched nerv- 
ously. Then he said, folding his arms with easy non- 
chalance : 

“ Now I think, Jan, you have played your trump 
card. I admire your pluck, and am proud to be 
your brother. But all this does not alter my position 
on the police force. I also have changed my role, with 
a fortune as fickle as yours, and it behooves me to 
remind my sister that a man’s reformation is surer 
and swifter of attainment, than the soiled virtue of a 
woman ” 

He got no further for my hand was on his throat 
and he was whirled back against the wall furiously. 

“ John, for Heaven’s sake, have patience — release 
him — anger will gain nothing,” Janita cried, and it re- 


Janita’s Dower. 


i6i 


called me. I released him slowly, and panted with 
the angry passion I dared not vent upon him then and 
there. 

“ You miserable dog ! remember, it is my wife of 
whom you speak. Let me hear no more of insult, or 
the little patience I have will be exhausted.” 

“ Thank you,” he said with cool politeness, settling 
his cravat. “ Evidently, brother-in-law, you are a 
man of strength ; I have but little to add. Since my 
fair sister acknowledges the family tie, I will frankly 
confide in you. I confess I thought to play another 
game, and pose as her rejected lover. I meant to 
break up these affectionate family relations, as a 
slight revenge for the trick she played me four years 
ago. Now I resign revenge, and take to an honest 
line. I am Fred Orme, nevertheless I have been on 
the detective force for ten months. My scheme is to 
restore those long-lost jewels, and receive the reward 
offered. If you consent to quietly place the money 
and jewels in my hands, I will promise quiet and dis- 
cretion as to my charming sister’s being a mem- 
ber of the depraved family connected with the robbery, 
and my brother-in-law the receiver of stolen goods. 
For myself I am safe. An old pal of mine, bearing 
my name, was tried and convicted with the old man. 
You cannot prove I am Frederick Orme, and if you 
dare to try to do so ” — he grew defiant suddenly — 
“ by God ! I will bring that proud Willoughby blood 
of yours to the very dust! You can hardly hesitate, 
if you still have the jewels, and I am sure you cannot 

II 


i 62 


Janita’s Dower. 

have sold them or I should have discovered it. If 
you owe your present position to the use of the money. 

I only ask that you restore to me the original amount. 

I think since you made so little ado as to selling your 
honor, Mr. Willoughby, I am sure, for your wife’s 
sake, that you will consider my terms reasonably cheap 
for buying it again.” 

“No, John, no!” Janita interposed as I started to 
speak. “ You cannot deal with such as he ” 

“ And you shall never address him again,” I said 
firmly, putting her aside. I had stilled the anger, 
that throbbed and whirled through my blood a moment 
before. His reference to the Willoughby pride had 
been like ice to my former passion. 

“ I have listened patiently to you, sir, and beg a like 
attention. You have contrived to place me apparant- 
ly in your power, but you cannot bully me into cringing 
fear. Know that the jewels and money lie unmolested 
as on the day I found them. These pearls alone 
were removed from the box ” 

“ And she is right about them. They are hers, she 
can keep them,” he interrupted. “ I see we begin to 
understand each other.” 

“ I sincerely hope we do,” I continued in a hard 
tone, “ but my wife will never wear those pearls again. 
Now in transferring the jewels to you, with my 
knowledge of all you have told me, I am conniving at 
further theft. Permit me to say, you have over- 
reached yourself in your frankness, as you did but 
recently in calculating on the fears of Mrs. Willoughby. 


Janita’s Dower. 


163 

It is impossible for me to comply with your request. 
The treasure must be restored in a straightforward 
and honest manner.” 

“ As they were taken, I presume. What defense 
will you make for your conduct in retaining stolen 
property? I tell you, man, you must make your 
choice. Comply quietly with my request, and I re- 
main silent respecting your desire to prop your fallen 
honor, and clear your wife’s reputation. But dare 
thwart me of my purpose, and I swear I will bruit your 
shame abroad, will proclaim your wife’s past and 
parentage, and so hamper every move you make in 
life ” 

“ Be silent ! do not threaten me. You are not deal- 
ing now with a woman, but a man, whose very shame 
makes him bold to act. Cowardly and yielding I may 
have been in the past. But to-day my word is as good 
as yours.” 

“ What you may not fear for yourself, may yet 
harshly recoil on others,” he said, continuing his ar- 
gument steadily and with cunning penetration for my 
vulnerable point. “ You have a son, whom you love ; 
a brother who shares with you shame, as well as affec- 
tion. For the sake of them pause and consider my 
proposition. I am only inexorable where it is inevita- 
ble. You shall have until to-morrow evening to decide 
your course. We meet, I believe, at your aunt’s resi- 
dence in Flatbush, wherein this treasure has been con- 
cealed. Your brother’s betrothal to Miss Sidney is to 
be announced. Let me know your decision to-morrow 


Janita’s Dower. 


164 

night. Until then shall we consider this interview at 
an end ? I think your wife is not well.” 

As he spoke, Janita clasped one hand over her eyes, 
and plucked at the pearl necklace at her throat. 

“ It chokes me, John, take it — off — unclasp it, quick- 
ly,” she gasped, and as I unfastened the tiny diamond 
clasp she sank in my arms insensible. 

In a moment Barney was the attentive friend. I 
eould only hold Janita while he brought water, in 
which to bathe the white, beautiful face. 

“ By Jove,” he murmured, as he watched me, “ but 
she is a brave one ! she has some of the old blood in her 
to think of defying me ! ” 

At the sound of his voice, she opened her eyes, and 
descrying him moaned out : 

“ Oh, Fred, how could you strike me. I did not 
tell him — I did not ” 

Then seeing my face bent over, to intercept her 
view of him, she burst into tears, crying: 

“ Oh ! thank God, thank God, you are here.” 

“ Mr. Barney,” I said with studied courtesy, as I 
soothed her gently, “ be kind enough to call my car- 
riage, and also say to my brother that, as my wife is ill, 
we have returned home. We will make our exit by the 
inner passage and leave the other guests undisturbed. 
As you have named the hour and place for my de- 
cision, so be it. To-morrow night at seven o’clock at 
my aunt’s house in Flatbush.” 

He simply bowed, and left the room, after requesting, 
with a smile, the key of the door. His manner was 


Janita’s Dower. 


165 

without reproach. He returned shortly, accompanied 
by Harold. Harold was much moved by Janita’s pale 
face, and conducted her himself to the carriage. I was 
detained a few moments by Barney, who stooped and 
picking up something from the carpet handed it to me. 
It was Janita’s pearls. 

I took them from him, and deliberately placed them 
on the floor, and ground them under my heel, my teeth 
set in sudden rage and disgust. He smiled a little, and 
as I passed out I involuntarily glanced back. He had 
once more recovered the necklace, and as I looked he 
severed the diamond clasp from the crushed pearls, 
and looking up met my glance, and smiled. 

Janita was in a raging fever, and I carried her from 
the carriage muttering incoherent sentences in which 
she alternately pled for mercy from her brother, or ex- 
claimed joyfully that I was near and loved her. Nor 
could I leave her a moment for two or three hours. 
She had been ill in this way once before, when ex- 
citement had overwhelmed her nerves, and a night’s rest 
and soothing draughts had restored her in a few hours. 
I was not wrong in judging this to be a similar attack. 
After a time she lay quietly in my arms, opening her 
eyes occasionally to see that I remained with her, or to 
caress my hand, against which she rested her cheek. 

Finally in her old tone, but very languidly, she said : 

“Jan, dearest, I am so selfish. You are tired out, 
and I keep you up. Lay me down and kiss me, and I 


1 66 Janita's Dower. 

will try and sleep, I must be strong to help you to- 
morrow.” 

“ That is my own brave girl. Do not try to think, 
but sleep, dear child, and remember my love for you. 
Love that has been in my aching, cowardly heart for 
years. Rest quietly, and do not dread to-morrow, for 
I will meet all that alone.” 

“ No, no, never alone again while I live. Together, 
John, unto the end.” 

“ Yes, dearest, all that you can give of aid I know I 
shall have. But tell me, I was too disturbed to compre- 
hend all Harold said as he put you in the carriage. He 
spoke of Susy’s Hallowe’en frolic?” 

“ Oh,” she said, smiling a little at this one cheerful 
reminder of the completion of her secret. To-morrow 
night is Hallowe’en and we are to spend it at Aunt 
Mildred’s, Harold’s betrothal will be announced, and 
a small dinner will be given to a few of his friends, and 
a dance will follow. Oh ! Jan, how can we go ” 

“ You need not endure this further trial of courage 
and strength but I must go, since I meet this man 
there. Now lie quietly, dear one, for I must leave 
you.” 

“ Not for long, Jan, and if you go, I will go also. 
I will be strong for this, never fear.” 

Alone in my study, I confronted the situation and 
endeavored to see my way out of the labyrinth of shame 
and sorrow, into which the downward step of my 
youth had plunged me. Painfully I once more dragged 
to light those scenes of my life, and reviewed them by 


Janita’s Dower. 


167 

a clearer light than hitherto. I began to see how Janita, 
young, and shrinking from daily cruelty and coarseness, 
had used her woman’s ingenuity to escape the horror of 
the life she led with her brother. I saw how he was 
trying to use her now, to serve the purpose of drawing 
me into theft a second time. It lay with me now, to 
connive with him, and give him the power to place 
me below his level ; or to defy all his threats and deliver 
the gold and jewels to the city authorities to be dealt 
with as they thought best. 

Thank God ! there was no hesitation in my own 
mind regarding what it was right to do at this time. 
I was confused by no doubts. But I found myself 
murmuring that I had truly tried to expiate the past. 
Janita’s happiness, and my great love for her, atoned 
for the blackness of my heart when I married her. I 
paused, and with white trembling lips, appealed to God, 
to bear me witness of the sincerity of my repentance. 
A voice within answered that appeal proclaiming how 
fruitless was any human expiation as a means of avert- 
ing the consequences of wrong-doing. God does for- 
give us, as heartily as we repent, and puts in our way 
the means to the end of repentance, but the inevitable 
result of the act recoils upon us, and we must bear its 
burden. Alas ! if we only had to endure the agony — 
but the curse of our wrongs is laid upon those we 
love, whose lives are indissolubly linked with ours. 
The old scar wakes and throbs, and we are fortunate 
if the wound break not forth afresh and call for endur- 
ance as well as patience. No rebellion against the in- 


i68 


Janita’s Dower. 


evitable revenge of outraged physical laws, can be more 
absurd than our revolt against the torture we furnish 
for our souls by transgressing spiritual laws. 

It is the Nemesis of the Greeks ; the Furies that drove 
Orestes mad, and involved the Laocoon in the meshes 
of the serpent. Every religion and philosophy has per- 
sonified, at some time, this formidable establishment 
of consequences. 

I bowed my head before the flood of reason over- 
whelming the foolish irreverent words upon my lips, 
and throwing myself upon my knees, cried aloud to 
Him for help in this sorest hour of need. 

When I arose the light of day was streaming through 
the closed shutters. One of the servants w'as at the 
door. He brought word that Mr. Harold Willoughby 
had called at midnight, but finding the study door 
locked, and receiving no reply Mary had discreetly 
judged I must not be disturbed. Harold had left a 
hurried note for me. 

“ John: 

“ I am anxious about Nita, and stop on my way from 
taking Susy home. I fear something disagreeable hap- 
pened at the studio. May I call early and hope to find 
you ? 

“ Harold.” 

I did not wish to see my brother. I wanted to re- 
main strong in my resolution of the night vigil. I knew 
no sight would shake me like that of seeing him, or my 
son. Moreover, I could not cloud his happy day with 


Janita’s Dower. 


169 

this trouble. He should remain in ignorance for 
awhile yet. So I wrote a hasty reply, forbidding him 
to come to the house that day ; assuring him of Janita’s 
recovery, and pleading duties that would give me no 
leisure until I met him at my aunt’s house at dinner. 

I then crept softly to Janita, whom I found sleeping 
quietly, and only venturing a light kiss on her slender 
hand, I left the house. 

I went directly to the office of a man whom I had 
known for years as one of Brooklyn’s most upright 
lawyers. He had been a friend of my father’s, but since 
his death I had never seen Mr. Ralston save on the 
street. A dignified rather austere man, I had always 
stood in awe of him. Now I felt I could rely on his 
clear stern judgment of my past. I wanted no law- 
yer who would find for me a quibble in the law to ex- 
onerate my conduct. This would be to turn again 
into that labyrinth of deceit and shame from which I 
wished to escape, even should it bring me to public 
dishonor. 

Mr. Ralston met me with formal courtesy. I 
thought he did not recognize me. He looked sur- 
prised at my request for a private interview, but led the 
way to an inner office. 

Here I told him the history of my temptation, omit- 
ting no humiliating detail, and wound up by a plea for 
his advice, and honest judgment, no matter how harsh 
the latter might prove. 

When I had finished he remaintd silent for some 
time, with folded arms and compressed lips. He had 


170 


Janita’s Dower. 


hardly looked at me during my trying recital, yet I 
knew he had heard and weighed every word. He 
finally spoke : 

“ How old are you? ” 

“Twenty-eight this month.” 

“ I trust there are no children by this marriage ? ” 

“ I have a son, sir.” 

“ Ah ! ” he looked at me sharply, and something in 
the glance made me feel more sure of his kindly na- 
ture. “ It is a bad business, young man, from the very 
beginning; a darker story of rash transgression has 
seldom reached my ears. What you desire is my 
advice. That I judge is your motive in coming here. 
I knew your father. I know your brother and your 
aunt. I have watched your career. I felt you had 
not trodden in the usual paths of the Willoughbys, but 
I little anticipated the revelations you have just made. 
The way, however, may be clearer before you than you 
think. It is the crying social evil of the world to-day 
that it treats lightly that which does not seriously af- 
fect a man’s financial standing, no matter how closely 
it may involve his honor.” 

I bowed my head in silence. 

“ You blush at that and I am glad to see you color. 
If I am not mistaken, however, you want the unvar- 
nished truth from me?” 

“ I do indeed, sir,” I replied. 

“ You have not used this money, it lies in the bank 
still. Your name in politics and business circles, and 
as a member of the press is without reproach. All 


Janita’s Dower. 


171 

this speaks in your favor. If in your own soul you 
know you have sinned against God’s holy laws, that is 
between you and your God. Lawyers, or the state and 
city authorities, have nought to do with that. To- 
morrow morning go with me to the City Hall, and 
deliver up the treasure with an account of how it was 
found in the house owned by your aunt. You have 
influence with the press, keep it out of the newspapers 
if you can — if not, have it clearly and honestly detailed, 
omitting as a matter of course, the part involving your 
wife, and your conscience, and the exact date of the 
discovery. Few will question its being a recent dis- 
covery, since Mrs. Willoughby bought the house a 
year ago and has made frequent alterations. As for 
this undesirable brother-in-law, give him to understand 
at once that his game is up. I can only see that he 
lays the way to future annoyance, if you weakly yield 
to any demand. He is really powerless to injure you. 
If he is as he says, a member of the detective corps, 
he has placed in your hands the weapon of his defeat. 
A call at headquarters, with a report of the use he 
tried to make of knowledge gained, would settle his 
account at once. Such an act made public would ruin 
him professionally. I am under the impression that 
'this man is relying greatly upon your family pride, 
your horror of scandal, and perhaps your youth.” 

I murmured something about going abroad, with my 
wife and child. He interrupted me with a frown. 

“ I never knew a Willoughby to be a coward. Stay 
where you are and face the battle. The conditions, 


Janita’s Dower. 


172 

I admit, are hard. A father-in-law in the peniten- 
tiary, and a brother-in-law headed that way. But you 
helped yourself to these contingencies, now abide by 
them. To go away would be to confirm the dastardly 
lies he may circulate, for look you — we are not seek- 
ing to overreach this damned scoundrel, but with the 
truth to circumvent him. Do not let me hear of your 
giving him one dollar as hush money. When you do 
that, young man, I am done with you.” 

I hastened to assure him that my sole anxiety was 
to do what was right, even should I suffer in so doing. 
That it seemed impossible that I should feel keener 
suffering than I had already undergone as I was only 
eager now, to spare my family, and to separate my 
wife from scenes that served to cruelly remind her of 
the past. 

Something in my face and impassioned emphasis 
seemed to touch him. He took a turn or two up and 
down the room. Then said; 

“ Come to me to-morrow at nine o’clock. I would 
go with you at once but I must be in the court room 
at ten. Together we will see this thing out. I like 
you — I believe your repentance is hearty. Keep a 
brave front, and hope for the best, for the sake of your 
wife — and son.” 

He clasped my hand warmly a moment then quickly 
assuming his austere formality, bowed me from the 
room. 


Janita's Cower. 


173 


CHAPTER XL 

“ Faith alone can interpret life, 

And the heart that aches and bleeds with the stigma, 
Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, 

And can comprehend its dark enigma.” 

— Golden Legend. 

With this cold comfort at my heart, I was forced to 
go to my daily routine of duties. But withal a strange 
peace seemed to pervade me. I no longer felt the 
dull weight of anxiety. Mr. Ralston’s words had 
awakened once more all my former faith in a Higher 
Power, and I felt that the Father had seen my deep 
penitence, and had sent a messenger of peace to still 
the restless pulse of pain. I remembered that the 
word m.essenger meant angel, and felt this calm could 
only come through His will, to cheer me on my hard 
way, and little as I felt I deserved help, in just so 
much were my humble thanks sincere and earnest. 

I did not think of the impending interview with 
Barney. I let my thoughts continually dwell lovingly 
upon the wife awaiting me; on the son I must strive 
to place beyond the temptations I had sufiFered. Ah ! 
how little do we realize that our deepest love is insuffi- 
cient to shield our dear ones from temptation. How 
every soul must reach to Him of itself, and work out 


Janita’s Dower. 


174 

redemption. And how slow we are to learn that the 
only way is to go to Him, even if we stumble occasion- 
ally and fall. 

As I turned homeward, however, thoughts of the 
evening would force themselves upon me. I won- 
dered if my aunt would throw open that large ball- 
room for the dancing, and I shuddered as I remem- 
bered having followed Janita up the narrow stairway 
to the haunted chamber. As yet I knew Susy had not 
discovered any portion of this secret passage. 

The autumn had been a very early one, and on this 
last day of October, a light fall of snow sent feathery 
flakes over me as I walked along and reminded me of 
another walk I had taken years ago, when I plodded 
along in bitterness of spirit and the cloud upon the 
horizon of my youth was a cloud no bigger than a 
man’s hand, yet I had permitted it to cast its shadow 
on my heart. Alas ! how every step of my downward 
course had been through self ; through commiseration, 
justification of self, and selfish desires. 

I found my aunt’s carriage at my door, and Janita 
awaiting me in some anxiety. The carriage had ar- 
rived, the coachman bearing a note from my aunt. It 
was full of afifectionate solicitude. She wished us to 
bring Harold and return to spend the night at the 
Hall. 

“ I know you were ill last night, and Harold thinks 
the long drive would be an obstacle to your being 
present this evening. Our lovers would be very much 
disappointed should you not come. So would I. I 


Janita’s Dower. 


175 

want my little boy here. So bring little Jan, and big 
Jan and come.” 

“ Janita, my dear, I cannot let you accompany me,” 
I said, pressing her white face against my breast, “ it 
is too hard a task to permit you to endure another hour 
of that man’s presence.” 

“ No, John, I must be with you,” she replied, “ my 
place is at your side, no matter what may happen. 
And Jan, I am brave now to meet my trouble, I am 
almost — happy,” she added in a whisper, tears dim- 
ming her eyes, “ if I only had not brought this cloud 
upon you.” 

“ That must not fret you, dearest,” I replied, and 
told her the result of my interview with Mr. Ralston. 
She listened earnestly. 

“ I cannot feel entirely safe while he is near,” she 
said as I concluded. “ I always feared him. He is 
so cruel. He delights in hurting one. He loves to 
revenge the slightest wrong. He thinks I have 
wronged him. Oh, John, how can you forgive me for 
all I have brought upon you ” 

“ Janita ! do you wish to reproach me, and make my 
burden heavier. Only my present love for you could 
lift the stain of unholiness in our hasty marriage. 
Your sweet purity; your lovely wifeliness, has washed 
away the taint of my sin. You have redeemed me, 
Janita. Your love, and Susy’s forgiveness, have made 
me a better man de.spite the foul fiend within me. To 
you I owe the present and the future.” 

She was silent a moment, leaning against me, with 


176 Janita’s Dower. 

a sad little smile quivering over the lips that met mine. 
Then she said : 

“ But there is one thing I think of continually, Jan. 
Our boy, our son, he has this same blood in his veins. 
That man is his — uncle. And oh ! the misery, the 
shame, that may be his with this knowledge as his 
heritage. He may learn to hate his mother.” 

“ My darling ! ” 

“ Or worse, dear,” she continued rapidly, “ we may 
live to see that cursed passion leaping into his eyes and 
feel the horror of all I have given him of sin and suf- 
fering, overwhelming him. Oh ! John, I cannot bear 
it, I cannot bear to think of it ! ” 

I held her close, until her passion of weeping was 
spent. Then I tried to comfort her, feeling how feeble 
was the effort, for she was only going over the ground 
of my suffering the night before, when I knelt before 
my Maker in humbleness and prayer, until the dawn 
found me worn and spent, but at peace. 

She raised her head finally, and laid her soft cheek 
against mine. 

“ I am so selfish, John, to trouble you now. You 
look so tired. I must tell you something strange and 
sweet that chanced to-day. No doubt j'ou will say it 
is one of my fancies, but indeed I really saw it. I was 
thinking these sad thoughts that have been slowly 
gathering here,” she paused pressing her hand to 
her head, “ ever since Jan was born.” 

“ Is this what has changed you so, my little child- 
wife?” 


Janita’s Dower. 


177 


“ Am I changed ? I do not know, only I could not 
bear to show my love for you, when I felt the weight 
of woe it brought you. As my love grew deeper, I 
felt how little you returned it. I saw other married 
peopie, and — I knew. To-day I sat by Jan as he slept 
and I soon fell to weeping. I saw his life clouded by 
this shame ; I fancied the dark blood coloring his dear 
face with ugly rage, and I knelt and prayed, John, to 
your good God, and the dear mother of Jesus to de- 
fend our babe. And when I rose I saw, to my sur- 
prise, a butterfly hovering over dear baby’s head. You 
know how cold it has been, and how the snow has 
fallen to-day. I thought I must be dreaming, but it 
hovered over the crib until I recovered from my sur- 
prise and examined it closely. White and delicate it- 
lingered until I grew accustomed to seeing it, and 
chancing to glance away, in a moment it was gone.* 

I smiled incredulously upon her up-turned face. 

“ My Nita is fancying a miracle of God’s love for her 
darling,” I said. 

No, no, I saw it, John. But it did seem a promise 
from Heaven, for do you remember telling me that the 
butterfly is the symbol of immortality ? My babe shall 
have life immortal in answer to my prayer. Oh ! yes, 
I believe this, John, and I wept once more for very 
joy.” 

I could only kiss the quivering lips and let her faith 
in this sign sink into my own soul. 

There was nought to do but, comply with my aunt’s 
* Fact. 


ianita’s Dower.' 


178 

request, and we were soon on our way to Axtell 
Hall, Jan in great glee at the unusual treat of a drive 
so late in the evening. Janita said little on our way 
hither. Only once she bent toward me while the 
nurse w'as engaged with Jan, and said : 

“ John, dear, if anything should occur to-night to 
either of us — if one of us should die suddenly — I 
want ” 

“ Janita,” I interposed aghast, “ of what are you 
thinking? I shall be sorry that I consented to your 
coming, if you are going to indulge in such foolish 
fancies.” 

“ No, I am well. Feel my hand how cool and firm it 
is. I will not speak of this again, John, but let me 
finish. If anything should happen to me — you will 
always remember how I loved you, always, and will 
love you still — even in my grave. I think you would 
some day feel me come in spirit, and wind my arms 
around your neck, and make you feel my presence.” 

” Dear wife, if you really love me, say no more. It 
pains me indescribably to have you dwell upon such 
thoughts.” 

” I will not do so again, John. Only I have been 
haunted by such strange thoughts. I’ve seen my own 
face white and dead, and heard you calling me in vain. 
There! do not look so distressed. I am relieved that 
I have told you and will think of it no more.” 

As we came in sight of Axtell Hall in the early twi- 
light, it presented a very different aspect from my 


Janita’s Dower. 


179 

recollection of its gloomy portals. The early snow 
cast a white light over the landscape ; the cheery light 
streaming from every window, and the evident signs 
of life and hospitality radiating from every angle, 
banished the ghostlike atmosphere that had long 
haunted its deserted towers. 

As we paused before the door, I saw Janita’s eyes 
involuntarily seek the window of the haunted chamber. 
She shivered and I drew her close to me. 

“ Courage, dear love,” I whispered, “ only one more 
ordeal, and you shall never see him more. Keep a 
brave heart.” 

She gave me a fond, grateful look, and stepped 
firmly from the carriage, and responded with blithe 
courage to Harold’s glad greeting. He was at the 
door in one of his merriest moods, looking so young 
and handsome, that when I saw Wallace Barney be- 
hind him, I felt as if confronted by an old legend, 
where the grinning devil tempts youth and ignorance. 

Susy was there, smiling and happy, and my aunt 
caught little Jan to her heart, and looking at me over 
his shining head said: 

“ John, he is so like you. All Willoughby, is he 
not ? ” 

Surely our welcome was a warm one, had not that 
one figure darkened the doorway. Had I not known 
of Harold’s intimacy with Barney I should have been 
surprised to find him there as early as ourselves, for 
the dinner hour was set at eight. 


i8o 


Janita's Dower. 


Susy proclaimed at once that until that time she in- 
tended to monopolize Janita. 

“ I have oceans to tell her,” she said, with a merry 
glance at Harold, “ and there is Mr. Barney and John 
for you to entertain, until the dinner hour.” 

“ Take Janita to her bedroom, Susy,” said my aunt, 
and added, “ I have given you a room in such close 
proximity to the haunted chamber, as they foolishly 
term it, that Susy thinks you will be nervous.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Janita, stooping to adjust Jan’s frock. 
I saw she was very white. She tried to rally quickly as 
Harold said: 

“ For your comfort, Nita, I will give testimony I 
have slept in the same room very often, and only the 
substantial spirit of a mosquito disturbed me.” 

“ Janita is not afraid of ghosts,” laughed Susy, “ but 
jthey may be tempted to walk to-night, for do you 
realize it is Hallowe’en ? ” 

“ Oh, come Susy ! ” I exclaimed, vexed at the folly 
and fearing its effect on Janita’s nerves. “ What has 
turned you into a little ghost hunter ? ” 

“ Mr. Barney, perhaps. Oh, he knows such blood- 
curdling tales. And to-night he is to tell us the 
legend of the haunted chamber. He has read up on 
the history of the house, and just at the witching hour 
of midnight he is going to try and shake our skepti- 
cal hearts. Aren’t you, Mr. Barney?” 

“You?” said Janita, addressing Wallace with a 
scorn that spoke volumes. He bowed with a look of 
vexation. 


Janita’s Dower. 


i8i 


“ Yes, Mrs. Willoughby, I found the story in an 
old legend of Flatbush, besides many other interesting 
facts connected with the house.” 

“ Ah ? ” just a little indifferent exclamation, and 
then she met Barney’s glance with a steady defiant chal- 
lenge, and I knew Janita’s "courage was steeled for the 
ordeal. She went away presently with Susy, and my 
aunt bore Jan to her room, and we three men were 
left to our own devices for the hour preceding the ar- 
rival of the other guests. 

Barney* was not long in making his opportunity. 
After a little desultory talk, he said, laying an affection- 
ate hand on Harold’s arm : 

“ Willoughby, would you mind leaving your brother 
and me alone for a short time. I have discovered 
something that will prove invaluable to him, as a mem- 
ber of the press, but I cannot transmit it to any ears 
save his, at present.” 

“ In other words, I am de trap,” said Harold, smil- 
ing. ” I will withdraw at once. But I can only 
promise you three-quarters of an hour of quiet con- 
ference. Remember gentlemen — this day is mine.” 

We both smiled at his evident complacency, and he 
left the room laughing at his own conceit. 

Barney carefully closed the door on his retreating 
form and came and stood against the mantel-shelf. 
I was sitting, and I gazed into the fire steadily, lean- 
ing my forehead upon my hand. 

“ Well ! ” he said at last, in anticipation of my tak- 
ing the initiative. 


i 82 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ Is it well, with you, Mr. Barney? ” I asked look- 
ing up quietly. 

“ That depends upon your decision, although it 
must go well with me in either case. We must doubt- 
less make the most of our time. Our dear brother is 
tyrannical to-day. What decision have you reached? 
Favorable, I hope.” 

“ Quite favorable,” I replied, as quietly as before. 

“ Ah ! then you consent to my using the money and 
jewels as I wish. You show more hard sense than I 
credited you with, and ” 

“ Stop, not so fast,” I interposed, “ you jump to 
hasty conclusions, Mr. Barney. It all depends on what 
I consider a favorable decision. No doubt we differ 
widely in this matter. To-morrow, at nine o’clock, 
the money I found in this house, together with the 
jewel casket, will be in the hands of the city authori- 
ties to do with as they think best. If this is playing 
into your hands, I am sorry to say I misunderstood 
your desire last night.” 

He turned livid, and took a quick step toward me. 

“ Have you betrayed me ? ” he cried, revealing all 
his own fears by the exclamation. 

“ Mr. Barney,” I said, rising, “ I betray neither 
friend nor foe. If you have woven the snare in whicli 
your feet are entangled, believe me, you must reproach 
some one else. I am blameless in the matter.” 

“ Do you mean to tell me that you have put it out 
of your power to comply with my demand? Do you 


Janita’s Dower. 183 

dare defy me, when I have that woman’s past at my 
tongue’s end, as a weapon ” 

“ Stop — if you love your life, no mention of my 
wife’s name, or I will throttle you,” I cried, shaking 
with rage and the effort I made to control myself. 
“ This is my brother’s house and you are still his 
guest, dastardly hound that you are, to crawl into an 
honest man’s favor. Take my plain answer to your vile 
threats. I do defy you. Do your worst, the recoil 
will still be on your own head. I give you warning. 
Were you thrice her brother, I would not hesitate to 
demand the justice, that has already placed your father 
under ward and key.” 

“ May I ask an explanation, Mr. Willoughby,” he 
spoke slowly and deliberately, and in a guarded man- 
ner, “ of your sudden change of purpose ? Is not this 
rash folly on your part unworthy such a shrewd busi- 
ness man. You send your wife’s brother to the peni- 
tentiary, and place a foolish confidence in your own 
power to ” 

“ Pardon me, Mr. Barney, I do not intend sending 
you to the penitentiary faster than your own deeds are 
carving you thither,” I replied, recovering my calm- 
ness with an effort, “ but I mean to convince you that 
no act of yours has power to influence my conduct one 
way or the other. My decision is made. You may 
slander my wife, but I beg to assure you that I shall 
treat with silent contempt any endeavor of this mode 
of blackmail.” 

His rage was hard to quell, yet after two or three 


Janita’s Dower. 


184 

quick strides up and down the room, he came toward 
me, with his face smoothed to a suave expression, 

“ Do you know I think I still have it in my power to 
make you yield to my desires? ” He spoke smilingly. 

“ I can credit you with great resources, Mr. Barney, 
but hardly such as you suggest.” 

You have besides the wife you treasure so fondly, 
a son,” he continued slowly. “ He is only a babe 
now, yet you treasure him as the apple of your eye. 
I warn you, Mr. Willoughby, that as you refuse me 
to-day, the time will come when you will rue your 
decision. I .shall never rest until I have retaliated and 
caused you to suffer sorrow for thus frustrating my 
plans. Once more consider. It is in your power 
still to give me the money to-morrow morning. Will 
you do so or not ? ” 

“ I will not give you the money or the jewels.” 

“You stubbornly persist in this decision? I have 
no faith in such strong protests. I believe that before 
midnight you will repent this obstinacy, and yield. 
If you have cause to change your mind, believe me, 
I am willing to grant you that womanly prerogative.” 

He cast a strange glance of triumph upon me, that 
puzzled me. I was silent, knowing that he understood 
how every word regarding my son cut me to the 
heart. His insinuations of the curse his presence 
might prove to my future were now his keenest 
weapons. 

“ This interview is now at an end, Mr Barney,” I 


Janita’s Dower. 185 

said finally, with cold courtesy. “ Shall we join the 
ladies? ” 

“ By all means,” he responded, “ only take this unc- 
tion to your soul. I will be avenged. You have be- 
trayed my trust, and confided in other strength than 
your own. You have stooped for aid which I would 
scorn. There is an old adage that there is ‘ Honor 
among thieves.’ It must needs be, since there is so 
little among gentlemen.” 

Before I could reply to the taunt, my little boy came 
running into the room. He came to kiss me good- 
night, his nurse was close behind him. 

I snatched up the laughing child and gave him the 
toss in the air he loved, and kissing him put him in the 
nurse’s arms. But he stretched his dimpled hand to 
Barney, with a desire to bid him good-night also. He 
frowned and scolded in his baby fashion, until the 
nurse said ; 

“ Master Jan wants to bid the other gentleman 
good-night. His mama said he must be polite to 
every one.” 

Barney hesitated, then held out his arms for the 
child, and Jan sprang to them. It was done so quickly 
I had no opportunity to interfere. Barney held him 
quietly, and looked over his golden head at me sig- 
nificantly. 

“You persist in your resolution? Not even this 
golden head will buy you the peace of dealing fairly 
with me? ” 

“ Unhand the child,” I said hoarsely, snatching Jan 


i86 


Janita’s Dower. 


from his arms, “ not even the threat of eternal damna- 
tion would lead me to brook another word with you. 
Out of my sight, or I may be tempted to forget all 
bonds of hospitality.” 

Jan bursting into tears, and the nurse’s frightened 
face, recalled me. I bent over the child striving to 
soothe him, and when I looked up again Barney had 
left the room. 


Janita’s Dower. 


187 


CHAPTER XII. 

“ Let not women’s weapons, water drops, 

Stain my man’s cheeks.” 

— Shakespeare. 

When I had sent the boy happy to bed, and calmed 
myself somewhat, I joined the others in the drawing- 
room where the guests were fast arriving. I made 
my way to Janita’s side, and was pleased to see a 
tinge of color in her face. She wore white, for the 
first time since our marriage, and had never looked 
more beautiful. Harold came to me just before dinner. 

“ I have asked Barney to hand Janita in to dinner. 
I ” 

“ For Heaven’s sake, no ! ” I said, laying a quick 
hand on his arm. He frowned. 

“John, if you do not like my friend, at least re- 
member you are both my guests.” 

“ I do, dear boy, and that alone has withheld me 
from kicking him from the door-step. I cannot ex- 
plain now, but, Harold, you are deceived in him. Do 
not let the scoundrel come near my wife.” 

“ I beg your pardon, John, but I cannot help smil- 
ing, yet your new character of a jealous husband be- 
comes you. Barney can take aunt in to dinner and 
you look after Susy. I’ll take care of Janita.” 


i88 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ I am sorry to have annoyed you, Harold.” 

“Never mind!” he rejoined, but I saw he was 
vexed. 

The dinner hours passed pleasantly. Harold was 
always a charming host, and my aunt was very happy 
in having around her once more the faces of those she 
loved. 

Mr. Barney won glowing honors, by his wit and 
easy conversation. I found myself involuntarily ad- 
miring the versatility of this man. Knowing him to 
be a dishonorable villain, it would have been amusing 
under other circumstances to watch him playing the 
gentleman so cleverly. Susy, who had overcome her 
distrust of him, in her innocent adaptability was his 
unconscious aide-de-camp. 

During the dinner hour Susy told me the dancing 
would not be in the large ballroom. 

“ It would have been a jolly place to dance though,” 
said the youth on Susy’s left. “ I went through the 
house once years ago to find ghosts, and that ballroom 
has a prime floor for dancing.” 

“ It is so large it gives me the shivers,” returned 
Susy. “ We are going to dance in the hall, and try 
some Hallowe’en charms. And then as midnight ap- 
proaches Mr. Barney is going to make our hair rise on 
end, while he tells us the legend of the haunted cham- 
ber.” 

“ Susy, I’ve a mind to quarrel with you,” I said tes- 
tily. “ Do not let us raise any old ghosts to-night.” 


Janita's Dower. 189 

“ Pshaw ! John, I believe yon are nervous,” she 
laughed. 

“ I am more. I am serious, when I ask you not to 
request Mr. Barney ” 

“ Miss Sidney, do not let our sedate and prosaic 
friend next you argue you out of the ghost story.” 
It was Barney who spoke across the table. I leaned 
back in my chair quietly and said : 

“ I knew the length of Mr. Barney’s ears before, 
but I had yet to test their keenness.” 

He smiled good-humoredly. 

“ Fox and donkey ? ” he asked lightly. “ Perhaps. 
But Miss Sidney must not be bullied in a reasonable 
desire to hear what may become family history.” 

Susy looked puzzled, and I did not deign to reply, 
but I knew after that, that no word passed between 
Susy and me that he did not hear. 

To me the evening dragged slowly. The scene in 
the old hall was a very pretty one, and pleased Har- 
old’s artistic soul. The wood fire blazed in the wide 
chimney, and the wax candles sent a soft light over 
the bright fabrics of the ladies’ gowns, making gay con- 
trast with the somber wood of the old hall. Harold 
had secured a harper, and from his position at the end 
of the hall, he sent forth tinkling notes of melodious 
dance music, fitting sound amid the old walls. Every 
incident of that night is traced on my memory in let- 
ters of fire. The thrill of exhilaration in the motion 
of the guests as their feet kept time to the throbbing 
music; my aunt looking so content in her stiff bro- 


Janita’s Dower. 


190 

caded gown and many jewels; Susy leaning on Har- 
old’s arm, her lovely face aglow with happiness, and 
Harold’s look of pride as they passed me. 

For myself I seemed to be watching a strange dra- 
ma, developing under my fixed gaze. I was no 
longer John Willoughby, but some one else, yet I saw 
my own part in the scene distinctly. I laughed, jested, 
almost as gaily as my brother, and more than once I 
caught Barney’s black eyes fixed on me in what I felt 
to be admiration for my courage in the face of his last 
threat. Ah ! could I have read the blackness of his 
heart. 

My wife passed me on the arm of a very youthful 
admirer, and she gave me a glance, which I met with 
a reassuring smile, and begged her to dance with me. 
We had never danced together before. The waltz 
was something quite new to society, but my wife had 
learned this accomplishment from Harold, and now we 
essayed to dance it together. 

To the slow measure, we glided on as in a dream, 
and I whispered something in the small ear turned 
a little away, something that called a glad blush to her 
cheek. As we paused, I missed Barney from the room. 
A sense of uneasiness crept over me. Janita said : 

“ I am going to see if baby is sleeping quietly. I 
told Kate she might join the other servants in the 
lower hall after he had fallen asleep.” 

“ Dq you think he should be left alone in a strange 
house?” I asked. 

Oh ! no harm can come of it, he is so well, and he 


Janita’s Dower. 


191 

never rouses. But I should like to see him a moment.” 

“ I will come with you.” 

Together we slipped away and found the boy sleep- 
ing sweetly, his golden curls brushing the pillow, the 
dark brow and long lashes that created his surprising 
beauty, the soft fair skin flushed with healthy slum- 
ber, and the dewy lips parted emitting the gentle 
breath. He was like a beautiful flower, and we stood 
gazing for some time at his baby charms. Then 
Janita busied herself with one or two light touches 
that mothers alone can give without awakening a 
child, and together we returned down the long hall. 

Once I fancied. I heard a step in the room adjoining 
ours, as we left the room, and we paused to listen. 
I did not hear it again, but said: 

“Janita, does that man remain here all night?” 

“ No, Susy says not. I asked her. Harold must 
not remain in ignorance, even should he be forever 
estranged from me.” Her voice shook a little. She 
loved my brother very dearly. 

“ No fear of that,” I replied, but not without my 
own misgivings. 

Barney was still absent on my return to the hall, and 
a thought suddenly took possession of me, that filled 
me with consternation. If he should arrest me for 
having stolen the jewels and money? He could make 
a clear case. Had I been foolish to defy him before 
yielding the treasure ? But in a short time I saw him 
once more among the dancers. 

As the hands of the clock pointed to half past eleven 


192 


Janita’s Dower. 


Susy, with a merry gesture, called a halt in the dance. 

“ Now, Mr, Barney,” she cried, “ we want to hear 
this blood-curdling tale.” 

“ Oh, how can Susy be so foolish,” I murmured. 

“Do you know the legend, John?” asked Janita, 
who was near me. 

“ Well enough to know old tales are the worst 
ghosts to raise from out of dusty graves,” I replied. 

A group had already formed about the fire, and we 
were called upon to join it, Barney placing himself 
just opposite me, as I stood at a corner of the mantel- 
shelf. Janita was just back of me in the shadow, 
while my aunt was on my right. Harold stood at the 
back of Susy’s chair, and as a silence fell upon us, his 
eyes sought mine smilingly. 

“ Miss Sidney has asked me to tell you the story of 
Axtell Hall, which I have found to be a most thrilling 
and romantic tale. After having complied with Miss 
Sidney’s request, I will ask your credence for a still 
stranger tale relating to this house, which may prove 
more interesting as having occurred in your own cen- 
tury.” 

This then was his revenge. He was going to try 
and expose me in my aunt’s house, hoping I would 
still make a sign, and revoke my decision. I felt 
Janita lay her hand warningly upon mine. I was 
tingling with anger, but I struggled for composure, 
and made no demonstration. 

Briefly he sketched the story of the old Colonel Ax- 
tell’s infamous band of Nassau Blues. How they 


Janita’s Dower. 


193 

plundered the country at the time of the Revolutionary 
War, rendering themselves obnoxious by their Brit- 
ish sympathies. He touched delicately on the Colo- 
nel’s illicit love for the sister of his wife. How his 
love was returned, and how he secreted the younger 
sister in the tower now known as the haunted cham- 
ber. Only one attendant knew of her refuge, and 
the Colonel’s secret passion. This attendant, Hannah 
by name, watched over and cared for Elinore, his be- 
loved mistress. A secret stairway reached to this 
chamber, known only to the Colonel and Hannah. 
Otherwise the chamber must be reached by a ladder 
outside. Once upon returning from a long journey 
Colonel Axtell found the Hall in a turmoil, owing to 
his wife having planned a large ball in honor of his 
return. To his dismay he missed the faithful Hannah 
from among the servants, and learned she had been 
dead six weeks. An awful fear overcame him, but 
he could not betray his anxiety. The hour of the ball 
was at hand. The egress to the haunted chamber lay 
through the ballroom. But lo, when the music was at 
its height, while gay dancers floated hither and thither, 
at the stroke of midnight a lurid blue light filled the 
ballroom. The music died away in a long wailing 
discord, and a faint pitiful moan pervaded the dim 
room, as the door of the secret stairway slid back, and 
a ghastly presence floated in and straight up to Colo- 
nel Axtell. He fell where he stood, and never roused 
again, and the moaning presence swept from the room, 
and none who had heard that sound ever laughed 


194 


Janita’s 'Dower. 


again. The following day the beautiful Elinore’s body 
was discovered in the tower, where she had died of 
starvation. She was buried by Colonel Axtell, whose 
wife bereft of reason, died a short time afterward. 

A shudder of mingled terror and enjoyment thrilled 
the young people who hung upon Barney’s words, as 
he recounted the legend, but my aunt said hastily as 
he concluded : 

“ This is entirely too uncanny. Harold, let us have 
our liallowe’en charms. No more ghosts, Mr. Bar- 
ney, I beg of you.” 

“ But he promised ” 

“ Oh, just one more ! ” 

“ It is just the season to be thrilled with horror,” 

The exclamations quite overwhelmed my aunt. 

“ I promise you no ghost in my second story, Mrs. 
Willoughby,” said Barney, “ It is full of reality in a 
stern sense, but with plenty of romance.” 

“ Romance ! oh, we must have it,” cried Susy. Har- 
old gave me a lazy smile. 

“ Why, yes, there is John who wields a ready pen, 
I'c may gather material for a sketch, who knows.” 

“ Mine is a story of to-day,” said Barney, in his 
softly modulated voice holding the attention at once. 
“ My hero is a man of social standing and determined 
character. I do not mind telling you at once I am a 
detective employed by the government and am now on 
the city police force.” 

Harold started, the color rising to his forehead as 
he looked at me. 


Janita’s Dower. 


^95 


“ What I tell you to-night is a true story. True, 
without time to cloud the marvelous statement. Near- 
ly five years ago this house, being empty, became the 
rendezvous for burglars. Three bold men harbored 
here after a bank robbery. With them was a young 
and beautiful girl, convent reared, she was brought 
to share the life of vagabondage they led. The money 
stolen was hidden in this house, and to further pre- 
clude its disturbance, it was secreted in the haunted 
chamber. To this house came a youth of Brooklyn, 
and enamoured of the girl, led by her to the treasure, 
he seized it, and marrying the girl, thought never to 
be discovered.” 

Harold, very white, had risen to his feet, fixing his 
burning eyes on Barney, while Susy shrank back in 
terror. The other faces depicted a perplexed interest 
in the story. I alone stood dumb and motionless. I 
could not move or speak. I watched with a strange 
dull fascination for his next words. 

“ All this came to my knowledge through my pro- 
fession. I see the youth waxing prosperous on stolen 
wealth, holding his proud head high after his sneaking 
theft, and I abide my time to deliver him to justice, 
or if I fail in that, to disgrace and shame. One hour, 
one little day, and I will accomplish this. Already 
one dearer treasure than gold lies in my keeping, his 
and his wife’s good name. Ay ! and even a greater 
than that. Mr. John Willoughby, you seem inter- 
ested in my story, perhaps you have some knowledge 
of the man ? ” 


196 


Janita’s Dower. 


“ Hold, Barney,” Harold’s voice, sharp and clear, 
startled the group of surprised listeners. “ You have 
gone too far. This is no time nor place for tales of 
detective work. I forbid you to utter another word ! ” 
His smothered rage, ill-concealed, spoke volumes. 
My aunt started, and I saw Susy shrink back, and it 
flashed upon me like the sharp cut of a dagger, that 
they might think that my brother was the culprit. Bar- 
ney’s insinuating tones had kindled vague suspicions 
in the breasts of those present. I was seized with a 
nameless fury to vindicate him, to permit no shadow 
to rest upon him. To the name of coward should I 
add hypocrite? I only waited to hear Barney reply in 
smooth tones : 

“ Mr. Harold Willoughby finds the tale dull because 
he has become already familiar with these facts. There 

is one way to check me, and but one ” 

“ There is one way,” I cried, and leaping upon 
him, I threw him to the floor, and stood over him, 
looking down into the glittering eyes, forgetful of 
wife, blind to all save the love I bore my kindred. 
“ There is a way. Tell the whole clear truth, if it 
shriek my shame to Heaven. I am that man he de- 
nounces ! I am he, who puts all, all aside ” 

” For God’s sake, John! ” 

“ John, this is madness 1 ” 

” My son, my own dear boy ” 

I hear their exclamations. I know for the first 
moment that my wife is not near me. I am alone to 
cry aloud my disgrace, while Barney cowers, and the 


Janita’s Dower. 


197 


eyes of the startled friends seem to scan my heart. I 
shake off Harold’s hand, and lifting my arms, and as 
if taking an oath, say slowly : 

“ Before Almighty God, I swear I am he whom this 
man pictures. Ready to bear the burden of my un- 
pardonable sin, but unable longer to be a hypocritical 
coward in your sight. He thought to gain another 
end, low-born dog, that he is, he lies there, to tempt 
me no longer ” 

At this moment breaking in upon me came a sound 
that I hear to-day at times, and shall hear at intervals 
all my life, until eternity has dulled mine ears to 
earthly sounds. A long low scream of agony ending 
in a moan. It was echoed by every feminine voice in 
the room — the house seemed flooded with it, but to me 
every moan was from Janita. 

I sprang toward the stairway, I only half heard 
Barney’s exclamation : 

“ Damn the woman ! she has tried to get the child.” 

I knew Harold was at my side when we reached the 
landing up-stairs. Together we reached the bed- 
room door. The room was empty; then a woman’s 
voice called wildly. 

“ The ballroom, the ballroom ! ” I cried, and dashed 
Harold aside. 

The door was ajar to this room, and I flung it back, 
casting a gleam of light across the wide polished 
floor, and there in the shadowy uncertain light, at the 
foot of the secret stairway, lay my wife and child. 

They brought candles presently, and looked at us 


Janita's Dower. 


198 

as I crouched beside her and touched the white face 
of the boy, scarcely knowing what I did. I do not 
think they spoke at all save in whispers. I cannot re- 
member. How still she lay, and not a quiver in the 
babe upon her breast. Suddenly I cried out hoarsely 
— Why did they not bring water to revive them ? How 
dull they were! See, Janita stirred and moaned. I 
felt Harold kneel beside me hastily and lift the child 
from her. Janita opened her eyes, and I raised her 
a little in my arms. She cried out as in great agony, 
then with desperate strength reached toward Harold 
as he held the child. 

“ Give him to me ! ” she cried, her lips drawn and 
white. “ He is mine — mine I ” 

My brother shook his head and turned from us with 
his burden. 

Janita made another vain effort to rise and follow 
him. I heard my own voice as at a great distance 
asking a question the answer to which I felt no one 
there dared give me. With a cry of supreme grief 
Janita reeled back into my arms, our eyes met in an 
agonized recognition of woe, then to Janita came the 
blessed relief of temporary oblivion. 

Our darling boy was dead. 

****** 

A long interval has elapsed since I wrote the last 
words. Although years have passed since that fatal 
night, in recalling the past I have paid the penalty by 
depression of spirit, and am almost loath to finish the 
story. 


Jantia’s Dower. 


199 


For days we despaired of Janita’s life, so that when 
the physicians told me as gently as possible that my 
sweet young wife would never walk again, the thought 
of the long years of patient suffering was swallowed up 
in my thankfulness at her reprieve from death. 

It was months before Janita could tell us the details 
of her adventure when she left my side that night, 
during the pause between Barney’s story of the Axtell 
house and his second recital. 

Janita had fancied she heard Jan cry out to her, be- 
fore Barney began his second story. She went to 
her room and found Jan was missing. Startled, but 
still not seriously alarmed, she then made her way to 
the servants’ hall, losing her way twice through the 
alterations my aunt had made in the house. 

She thought Kate certainly had the child with her, 
and upon discovering he was not in the servants’ hall, 
she took Kate back with her, and they went through 
the other rooms thinking Jan might have awakened 
and was searching for us. 

Suddenly, Kate said, Mrs. Willoughby gave a little 
cry of alarm and said, “ I see — I see ! he thinks I have 
forgotten the secret stairway. My child could starve 
there, and we could never hear his cries. Get me a 
candle, Kate, say nothing to the others, but come with 
me as quickly as you can.” 

Kate obeyed her, and she led the way across the 
ballroom to the slide at the bottom of the stairway. 
It was hard work getting it open, and when they had 
done so, Janita ascended alone. 


200 


Janita’s Dower. 


She gave an exclamation of delight upon finding 
the babe sleeping peacefully. 

She then called Kate to come half-way up the stairs, 
and take the candle, telling her to descend carefully, 
and wait for her, since she knew the stairs well. Kate 
said Janita started down rather swiftly, the child in 
her arms, when suddenly she made a misstep, gave a 
low scream, and fell forward; Jan’s head struck the 
lowest step — the purple mark on the delicate temple 
was the death mark, and our darling never knew a 
moment’s anguish. 

Whether it was with the hope of buying me, through 
the child’s recovery ; or merely the low tigerish instinct 
of revenge and torment that urged Barney to carry 
Jan to the haunted chamber will always remain in 
doubt. I never saw the man again. Jan was asleep 
when his mother found him, and he must have been 
gently moved. 

I never asked, nor did any one tell me until years 
afterward, how Mr. Ralston and Harold met the city 
authorities and delivered the treasure to their keep- 
ing. The jewels were restored to England and their 
owners after many years, where I trust they may never 
betray another into temptation and woe. 

The money was found to be cleverly counterfeited. 
Not a coin was true in weight or value. It was as 
base and false as the motive that assailed me in ac- 
cepting it from Janita that fatal night. 

Barney disappeared, and no effort was made to 
apprehend him. 


‘ Janita’s Dower. 20 r 

My brother was at my side every moment during 
those weeks of anxiety for Janita, and Susy proved 
even more than before her claim to our gratitude and 
love. 

Slowly we won my wife from the valley of the 
shadow, only to realize that her life must continue in 
the shadow of pain and helplessness. Ah ! God — 
could I but have changed places with her. Patiently, 
lovingly, she soothed my grief and impatient rebellion 
against this awful blight upon our happiness, and led 
me back to higher, better thoughts. Janita, wife, no- 
ble woman, to-day as I write the words tears of grati- 
tude rush to my eyes, to you I owe all and everything. 

My life is nearly spent now. I look back upon its 
struggles and temptations, as I see young men grow- 
ing up about me. Once more I see the worthiest as- 
pirations preparing pitfalls for guileless feet. I see 
the fall, and the endeavor to expiate the sin, and the 
suffering as an inevitable consequence. 

But on my heart He has written in letters of fire 
His infinite Wisdom and Mercy, in that out of all I 
have suffered, all I have deserved of anguish, He has 
left me the gentle, loving, and now Heavenly memory 
of Janita. 




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APPENDIX. 




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Janita’s Dower. 


205 


HISTORIC MELROSE HALL TO BE SOLD AT 
AUCTION. 


ERECTED FIFTY YEARS BEFORE AMERICAN REVOLUTION 
SCENES OF MANY ROMANTIC INCIDENTS. 


A RENDEZVOUS FOR TORIES. 


MANY FANCIFUL STORIES TOLD ABOUT THE OLD PLACE 
AND ITS MANY DIFFERENT OWNERS. 


March 2y, 1901. 

Old Melrose Hall, at Bedford Avenue and Win- 
throp Street, Flatbush, is to be sold at auction Monday, 
April 8. Possibly no single dwelling in Greater New 
York has witnessed more romantic incidents than has 
Melrose Hall. Its erection ante-dates by many years 
the American Revolution ; it possesses a style of archi- 
tecture quite unknown to the early Dutch settlers ; and 
on a plan grand'^r and more pretentious than any of 
its contemporaries. 


206 


Janita’s Dower. 


It is said to have been built by an Englishman by the 
name of Lane in 1749 and this is proved beyond a 
doubt by ancient deeds still in existence. There is no 
house in Flatbush which has had so many different 
owners as this, and none of which so many fanciful 
stories have been told. The land upon which it was 
built was the remaining twenty-eight acres forming 
part originally of a Vanderbilt farm, and this portion 
was purchased by the English gentleman. Mr. Lane 
was a man of good family, who was banished from his 
home in England on account of the wild life he led. 
He had married a woman of low parentage and they 
lived here on an annuity, which ceased at his death; 
after that she could not support the style in which 
they had lived and the house was offered for sale and 
purchased by Colonel Axtell. 

The house was, fbr that age, more than a century 
and a half ago, a large and showy one ; it had a green- 
house in the rear. The cornices in the drawing-rooms 
were gilded, the rooms wainscoted and the halls wide. 
Here its proprietor, with his numerous friends, led a 
merry life. 

Colonel William Axtell was the next owner of the 
property. Axtell was a descendant of Daniel Axtell, 
a colonel in Cromwell’s army, who was beheaded by 
order of Charles II. It is said that Colonel Axtell 
built some of the secret closets with which the house 
abounds, for the concealment of his Tory friends. Be- 
ing a man of much influence and considerable wealth. 


Janita’s Dower. 


207 


his new home became a favorite rendezvous for all 
the Tory element in and about the metropolis. Here 
many a secret conclave was held and many a plan con- 
cocted to thwart the designs of the rebels. 

In 1778 Axtell was commissioned by Sir William 
Howe to raise a regiment of foot, of which he was 
colonel. 

In 1776,. a few days before the battle of Long Island, 
while Axtell was entertaining a party of British offi- 
cers, an American gunner, stationed on the wooded 
heights beyond, threw a shell into the house, causing 
much damage and great consternation to the inmates. 

For no inconsiderable period of its history Melrose 
was looked upon suspiciously by its neighbors as a 
place to be avoided after nightfall, and the children 
of the neighborhood were awed and silenced by stories 
of phantom sights and sounds seen and heard in 
and about the ancient place. The ghosts said to have 
haunted the house gave no sign as to which family they 
belonged, but long after the War of the Revolution, 
it is said, no one liked to venture, after dark, within 
the haunted premises. They say that human remains, 
bones, hair, and military buttons have been found 
on digging upon the premises, but this mystery is 
spoiled by explaining that it was known that some En- 
glish soldiers who died during the war were buried 
here. 

Mrs. Axtell, who was said to be a very haughty 
woman, brought with her to this house a poor, pale, 
sickly looking child ; it was her sister or her niece, who, 


Janita’s Dower. 


2oS 

they used to say, was always crying with homesick- 
ness and longing to go back, but was never allowed to 
go. She was taken very ill one night and died sud- 
denly. 

Above the ballroom was a secret chamber, with no 
entrance save by a window far up from the ground, 
where it was later affirmed a young girl had been 
purposely starved to death, and whose ghost wan- 
dered at night about the house. It was doubtless 
founded upon the innocent death of Mrs. Axtell’s little 
sister. 

Another sister lived with the Axtells, and, she was 
of a different world. She was wooed and won by 
General Giles of the American troops. He was for- 
bidden to enter upon the domain of Colonel Axtell, 
but the lady met him at the gate, and one day, it is 
said, they ran away and got married. By strange 
poetic justice, when the estates of Colonel Axtell were 
confiscated at the close of the war, they became the 
property of General Giles, who purchased them in 
1784, and the lady who had forbidden the young 
American officer to enter her doors was now obliged, 
if she entered at all, to come as his guest. Colonel 
Axtell died in England in 1795, 'aged 75. 

Thus by the fortunes of war, master and guest 
changed places, and Colonel Giles and his wife, Eliza, 
were the happy possessors of Melrose Hall until June 
21, 1809, when they conveyed the same to Bateman 
Lloyd. Lloyd was a native of Salem, N. J., an officer 
in the American Army, and died at Melrose in 1815. 


Janita's Dower. 


209 


Through his heirs it finally passed to James Mowitt, 
husband of the well known actress, who resided here 
from 1836 to 1841. 

Mrs. Anna Cora Mowitt, daughter of S. G. Ogden 
of New York, in her autobiography speaks of the life 
in Flatbush most enthusiastically. Here she spent 
happy years, as she herself writes, trundling hoops, 
skipping the rope, riding horseback and dressed in half 
Turkish costume, shooting birds on the wing, much 
to the annoyance and disgust of her staid Dutch neigh- 
bors. She named it Melrose Hall. In 1844 Dr. John 
Robinson purchased the property and went there to re- 
side with his family. Dr. Robinson was a gentleman 
of the old school and a graduate of Dublin University. 
Though his practice was mostly in the City of New 
York, he took a just pride in Melrose and preserved 
its rare trees and shrubs with scrupulous care. He 
resided longer in Melrose than any other person, and 
gave character by his individuality to the whole place. 
He died in 1879. 

Since his death Melrose Hall and a part of the 
original domain was purchased by his old friend and 
neighbor. Dr. Homer L. Bartlett. He moved the an- 
cient mansion about two hundred feet back, so that 
it now faces on Bedford Avenue, and has removed 
both the ballroom and’ secret chamber and the 
kitchen and slaves’ quarters, which were out of repair. 
Dr. Thomas Staflford Drowne purchased the property 
as it now stands from Dr. Bartlett, and during his 
lifetime repaired the house and restored it to its an- 


210 


Janita’s Dower. 


cient appearance in many ways. It is now to be sold 
to settle his estate. 

The house is built of oak with heavy hand-hewn 
beams, and instead of nails it is pinned with wooden 
pins. The laths are cedar and the corners dovetailed 
together. It is as firm to-day as in its earlier glory 
and would put to shame many a modern house. The 
floors are foot-wide oak planks, the window casings 
are hand made, as is all the woodwork, and each win- 
dow contains twenty-four panes of glass. There are 
many names and inscriptions on the glass, telling the 
story of many lives now passed away. There are 
initials touchingly entwined, and circles drawn about 
two names, hinting of romances under the ancient 
roof-tree. On one of the front windows is a very old 
pane of glass with the following lines : 

Why are the bonds of friendship tyed 
With so remiss a knot,. 

That by most they are defy’d. 

And by the most forgot. 

Why do we step in so light a sense, 

From friendship to indifference ? 

There is a staircase that leads nowhere and ends in 
a blank wall, for there is no head room, and there are 
many bullet holes in the roof, telling the tale of war 
through which this old house stood unharmed. 


THE END. 















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